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PHIZ  AND  DICKENS 

AS  THEY  APPEARED  TO 

EDGAR   BROWNE 


WITH  ORIGINAL  ILLUSTRATIONS  BY 

HABLOT  K.   BROWNE 


NEW  YORK 

DODD.  MEAD  &  COMPANY 

1914 


Printed  by  Ballantyne,  Hanson  &*  Co. 
at  the  Ballantyne  Press,  Edinburgh 


TO 

J^J    WIFE 


PREFACE 

During  the  last  few  years  I  have  been  repeatedly 
urged  to  put  on  paper  my  recollections  of  my 
father,  Hablot  Knight  Browne,  who  is  equally  well 
known  under  his  pseudonym  of  Phiz.  It  has  even 
been  urged  upon  me  as  a  duty.  No  one  except 
myself  has  seen  any  difficulty,  though  memory  is  a 
coy  jade,  and  will  not  come  for  the  asking.  But  it 
has  been  represented  that,  like  Mrs.  Dombey,  all  I 
needed  was  to  make  an  effort.  I  have  made  an 
effort,  and  the  following  pages  are  the  result.  They 
are  partly  retrospective  and  partly  critical,  and  even 
the  critical  are  partly  retrospective,  as  they  embody 
opinions  formed  a  long  time  ago,  and  modified,  but 
scarcely  changed,  by  a  late  review. 

I  have  endeavoured  to  select  from  a  chaos  of 
youthful  memories  those  facts  and  circumstances 
most  important  in  serving  to  form  the  picture  of 
the  early  Victorian  society  in  which  I  opened  my 
wondering  eyes. 

In  the  beginning  I  have  taken  my  father  as  a 
central  figure,  and  I  have  grouped  around  him  such 


mi)2V>7 


viii  PHIZ  AND   DICKENS 

people  and  incidents  as  seemed  most  interesting, 
and  as  a  man  cannot  be  separated  from  his  times,  I 
have  endeavoured  to  describe  the  manners  and  cus- 
toms and  the  mode  of  Ufe  of  that  section  of  the 
middle  classes  among  whom  I  passed  my  early  days. 

I  was  desirous  of  veiling  my  own  personality, 
but  I  found  it  impossible  to  justify  my  point  of 
view  without  describing  some  of  the  circumstances 
which  bore  directly  on  myself. 

I  have  given  some  account  of  the  chief  writers 
for  whom  he  worked,  including  especially  the 
greatest  figure  in  Victorian  literature,  Dickens. 

Of  course  for  the  early  part  of  his  career  I  have 
had  to  rely  to  a  considerable  extent  on  information 
derived  from  friends  and  family  tradition.  Later 
on  in  the  book  I  have  described  him  as  I  knew 
him  from  my  own  personal  knowledge  in  middle 
life,  and  have  given  some  account  by  the  aid  of 
the  Dickens  books  (as  those  are  the  best  known  of  all 
his  works)  of  his  development. 

The  illustrations  to  the  present  volume  have 
been  skilfully  reproduced  with  a  fidelity  not  for- 
merly attainable,  and  are  mostly  from  hitherto  un- 
published work.  They  are  fairly  representative  of 
the  artist's  different  styles  and  periods.  Some  are 
mere  scraps  done  in  odd  moments,  which  by  some 
fortunate   chance  escaped   the  waste-paper  basket. 


PREFACE  ix 

Several  are  merely  tentative  designs  not  intended 
to  be  seen  by  any  eye  but  his  own.  For  the  most 
part  they  bear  no  reference  to  the  text,  but  are 
interesting  in  revealing  a  personal  character  not 
discernible  in  more  formal  productions. 


39  Rodney  Street,  Liverpool, 
September  2>^th,  1913- 


CONTENTS 


CHAP. 

I.  Hablot     Knight     Browne  :      His     Name     and 
Calling 


I 


II.  His  Life  and  Friends  in  London       ...  14 

III.  Home  Life  in  Croydon 26 

IV.  Mr.  Bicknell  and  his  Friends    ....  55 
V.  Dickens  and  some  of  his  Illustrators      .        .  74 

VI.  The  reputed  Originals  of   some  of   Dickens' 

Characters 90 

VII.  The  Theatre  :    Macready,  the   Keans,   Phelps 

and  Sadler's  Wells,  Robson,  T.  P.  Cooke  106 

VIII.  Amusements  of  the  Poor     .....  129 
IX.  Entertainments,    Readings,    and    Every    Man 

FOR  Himself 138 

X.  Music — Wholesale  Amateur  Songsters      .        .  147 

XI.  Early  Victorian  Illustrations  ....  158 

XII.  Charles  Lever,  the  Man  and  his  Books  .        .  168 

XIII.  Harrison  Ainsworth — A  Man  of  many  Parts  .  191 

XIV.  Charles  Dickens — His  Humour  and  Pathos — 

"  A  Tale  of  Two  Cities  " — A  Coincidence  .  205 

XV.  Hablot  Browne  :   His  Personality  and  Works  234 

XVI.  Phiz  the  Illustrator 244 

XVII.  Final  Years 306 

Index 318 

xi 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


Portrait  of  Hablot  Knight  Browne 

John  Gilpin     ....... 

Sketch  of  Girl  [Colour)    ..... 

Pen-and-Ink  Sketches — Humours  of  a  Race- 
course       ....... 

Labour  in  Vain        ...... 

Head  (Colour)   ....... 

Pen-and-Ink  Sketches  [Designs  for  Series  of  the 
Five  Senses)  ...... 

Illustration  to  "The  Battle  of  Life"  (J.  Leech) 

Facsimile  of  Autograph  Letter 

Wine — Decorative  Panel  (Colour)     . 

Portrait  of  Arthur  Hill        .... 

Landscape  [Colour)    ...... 

MuLREADY  Envelope         ..... 

Phiz'  Parody  of  the  Same       .... 

A  FAIR  Equestrienne  (Colour)  .... 

Sic  transit       ....... 

The  Rockers    ....... 

Mother  and  Child  [Colour)       .... 

Sketches  made  in  Dublin  while  Touring 
WITH  Lever        ...... 

The  Pooka        ....... 

Pen  and  Ink — The  Trampers  .... 

Scraps — Organ  Grinders  and  Initial  Letters 

Death  of  Little  Nell     ..... 

Country  about  Banstead  [Colour)    . 

xiii 


Frontispiece 

Facing  p.  4 

)) 

15 

30 

44 

54 

66 

:h)  ',' 

82 

88 

91 

III 

118 

128 

129 

140 

146 

160 

166 

180 

»» 

188 

tf 

196 

t  > 

204 

}  f 

210 

>  t 

234 

XIV 


PHIZ  AND   DICKENS 


The  Marchioness  (Pencil) 

The  Marchioness  (Etching)        .... 

MiGGS  (Woodcut)         ...... 

MiGGs  AND  Mrs.  Varden  (Etching)    . 
Martin  Chuzzlewit  in  Bed  at  the  Blue  Dragon 
The   Moral   Pecksniff  in   the   Bosom   of  his 
Family       ..... 

Little  Paul  (Colour) 

Alice  (Colour)    ..... 

Eva  and  Topsy  (Colour)    . 

The  Foxhunter's  Dream 

Death's  Revel  .... 

Death's  Banquet     .... 

Hablot  Browne  from  a  Photograph 
The  Deluge     ..... 

The  Schoolmaster's  Dilemma  . 


.  Facing  p.  254 

256 

258 

260 

„       265 


268 

273 
274 

300 

302 

304 

305 
306 

312 
314 


PHIZ  AND  DICKENS 


CHAPTER    I 

HABLOT   KNIGHT   BROWNE  :  HIS   NAME   AND 

CALLING 

My  father's  uncommon  Christian  name  was  given 
him  in  memory  of  a  French  officer  who  was  engaged 
to  marry  his  eldest  sister,  my  aunt  Kate.  But  the 
marriage  did  not  take  place,  as  the  young  man  was 
unfortunately  killed  either  in  the  battle  of  Water- 
loo, or  in  some  of  the  skirmishing  that  occurred 
before  the  combat.  My  father  was  born  in  July  of 
the  same  year,  and  was  therefore  enveloped  in  a 
sentimental  atmosphere.  It  was,  of  course,  a  sur- 
name. Journalists  seem  to  have  agreed  to  spell 
the  word  with  a  circumflex  accent  over  the  o 
thus — Hablot.  The  precise  significance  of  this 
addition  has  not  yet  been  manifested.  It  is  prob- 
ably intended  as  a  short  and  easy  way  of  denoting 
the  French  origin  of  the  word,  and  providing  for 
the  elision  of  the  final  t  in  speaking,  so  that  the 
name  is  pronounced  ''  Hablo."     I  cannot  pretend 


2  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

to  be  an  authority  on  the  French  language,  but  I 
beHeve  the  accent  usually  denotes  the  suppression 
of  the  s  or  other  letter  in  words  derived  from  the 
Latin,  as  hostis  =  h6te,  festa=fete,  and  so  forth.  But 
my  father's  name  not  being  derived  from  the  Latin, 
as  far  as  I  can  see,  we  might  just  as  well  write  Haricdt 
mutton  or  Bonmot  with  an  accent.  The  name  seems 
to  be  a  rare  one  even  in  France.  Though  I  have 
cycled  through  innumerable  small  French  towns 
and  kept  a  good  look-out,  I  have  only  once  seen 
the  name,  and  that  was  on  a  little  brass  plate  on 
a  prie-dieu  in  Auxerre  Cathedral.  Then  it  served 
as  the  name-plate  of  a  certain  Madame  Hablot, 
indicating  that  she  was  both  pious  and  prosperous. 
I  have  often  lamented  that  I  did  not  get  her  address 
from  the  verger,  but  I  fancy  there  may  have  been 
no  verger  at  hand,  and  anyhow  I  believe  I  should 
have  been  too  retiring  to  have  called,  and  incurred 
the  suspicion  of  being  a  mendicant. 

The  name  in  English  has  the  merit  of  being 
distinctive,  though  its  varying  pronunciation  some- 
what obscures  its  identity.  In  the  family  we  aspir- 
ated the  H,  which  the  French  do  not,  and  sup- 
pressed the  t.  Tradesmen  and  others  were  in 
the  habit  of  reversing  this  arrangement,  and 
spoke  of  Mr.  "  Abblut  Browne."  I  rather  agree 
with   the    nursery-maid    who   said,    "I    do    think 


HABLOT    KNIGHT    BROWNE  3 

*  Awelo  '  is  such  a  pretty  name."  So  it  is,  be- 
sides harmonising  euphoniously  with  the  famihar 
"  'Enery." 

On  leaving  school,  Browne  showed  such  a  strong 
bias  towards  the  arts,  and  such  a  great  disinclination 
to  move  in  any  other  direction,  that  with  the  advice 
and  aid  of  his  brother-in-law,  Mr.  Elhanan  Bicknell, 
he  was  placed  as  pupil  or  apprentice  at  Finden's. 
They  were  the  leading  engravers  of  the  day,  and 
executed  a  large  number  of  plates  of  all  sorts,  either 
for  framing,  or  as  illustrations  for  books.  These 
were  the  days  of  keepsakes,  books  of  beauty,  and 
annuals  of  various  kinds.  Line-engraving  has  never 
been  equalled  as  a  means  of  producing  luminous 
little  pictures  for  book  illustrations,  but  the  expense 
and  tediousness  of  the  process  caused  it  to  be  dis- 
used as  soon  as  a  reasonably  good  substitute  could 
be  found.  A  great  many  hands  were  employed  at 
Finden's,  and  several  men  were  often  engaged  on 
one  plate.  Here  Browne  learnt  the  technical  details 
of  engraving.  In  after  life  he  described  himself  as 
an  engraver  in  all  formal  documents. 

It  is  reported  that  he  was  not  always  solicitous 
for  the  finish  of  his  plates,  but  was  accustomed  to 
etch  little  original  sketches  on  the  margin,  which 
could  be  printed  off  and  afterwards  obliterated,  and 
served  more  for  amusement  than  edification.     Simi- 


4  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

lar  little  sketches  are  frequently  made  seriously  by 
engravers,  and  are  termed  remarques. 

The  suggestion  made  shortly  after  his  death  that 
he  was  unacquainted  with  etching,  and  had  to  call 
in  aid  to  complete  the  illustrations  of  Pickwick^  had 
no  foundation  in  fact.  He  was,  indeed,  ignorant 
of  nearly  all  technical  processes  in  the  arts  except 
those  of  etching  and  engraving,  but  that  he  was  a 
more  than  competent  etcher  is  shown  by  his  winning 
in  1833,  while  a  youth  at  Finden's,  a  medal  from  the 
Society  of  Arts  for  the  best  etching  of  a  "  Historical 
Subject."  (It  is  quite  impossible  that  a  man  who 
had  been  an  apprentice  at  Finden's  and  a  medallist 
at  the  Society  of  Arts  should  not  have  been  able 
to  etch  his  own  plates.)  The  dimensions  of  this 
particular  plate,  representing  John  Gilpin  at  the 
turnpike,  were  about  20  inches  by  13  inches.  The 
design  is  full  of  rude  vigour. 

We  first  meet  with  Hablot  Browne's  name,  in 
connection  with  any  works  of  art,  as  one  of  several 
co-operating  in  the  production  of  a  book  called 
Winkle^s  Cathedrals.  The  views  generally  aim  at 
giving  the  picturesque  aspect  of  architecture.  The 
first  of  these  drawings  is  dated  1835.  The  work 
seems  to  have  been  issued  in  parts,  with  two  plates 
to  each  number,  and  Browne's  last  contribution 
appeared  in  January  1837,  but  may  have  been 
executed  some  little  time  before  that.    These  draw- 


i.m 


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HABLOT    KNIGHT    BROWNE  5 

ings  afford  definite  indisputable  proof  that,  as  early 
as  1835,  he  was  capable  of  preparing  work  suitable 
for  engraving  and  publication  in  important  books 
under  his  own  name. 

His  drawings  in  this  book  are  characterised  by  a 
lively  chiaroscuro,  and  by  the  vivacity  of  the  groups 
of  figures,  especially  horsemen,  which  the  other 
artists  do  not  seem  to  have  cared  to  tackle.  The 
plates  are  mostly  engraved  by  two  of  the  Winkles, 
but  other  hands  seem  to  have  been  employed  as  well. 

There  was  at  Finden's  another  apprentice,  Robert 
Young,  with  whom  Browne  struck  up  a  friendship 
which  lasted  all  his  life.  The  two  determined  to 
set  up  in  business  for  themselves,  and  formed  a 
sort  of  partnership,  and  started  in  a  studio,  in  imita- 
tion of  Finden's.  For  this  purpose  they  took  chambers 
in  No.  3  Furnival's  Inn,  having  as  neighbour,  though 
they  knew  it  not,  the  man  who  was  so  greatly  to 
influence  their  lives — Dickens  was  already  living 
at  No.  15.  The  entrance  to  the  quadrangle  was 
by  a  porte  cochere  from  High  Holborn.  Dickens 
occupied  chambers  on  the  right  as  you  entered  the 
gateway,  and  Browne  and  Young  had  their  rooms 
on  the  left.  The  far  side  of  the  quadrangle  was 
taken  up  by  Wood's  Hotel,  a  respectable  house 
where  a  kind  of  domestic  comfort  was  provided  for 
country  visitors,  including  family  prayers  night  and 
morning.     The  whole   building  has   been  knocked 


6  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

down,  and  the  site  is  occupied  by  the  huge  offices 
of  the  Prudential  Insurance  Company. 

In  the  course  of  time  Dickens  removed  to  Doughty 
Street,  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Euston  Square, 
and  a  few  years  later  Browne  married  and  started 
housekeeping  in  Rowland  Street,  in  the  neighbour- 
hood of  Fitzroy  Square,  then  an  artistic  centcfiu 
In  the  Newcomes  Thackeray  so  describes  it  : — 
*'  One  day  on  our  way  from  the  Temple  through 
Howland  Street  to  the  Colonel's  house,  we  beheld 
Major- General  Thomas  de  Boots  in  full  uniform 
rushing  from  Smee's  door  to  his  brougham.  The 
coachman  was  absent,  refreshing  himself,  the  little 
boys  cheered  and  hooray ed  Sir  Thomas,  as  arrayed 
in  gold  and  scarlet  he  sat  in  his  chariot.  He  blushed 
purple  when  he  beheld  us — no  artist  would  have 
dared  to  imitate  those  purple  tones.  He  was  one 
of  the  numerous  victims  of  Mr.  Smee  (a  fashion- 
able portrait  painter).  ..." 

The  joint  business  of  Browne  and  Young  as  en- 
gravers had  actually  made  a  start,  and  sundry  plates 
were  engraved  as  illustrations  to  books  or  having 
a  separate  existence,  when  Seymour's  unfortunate 
death  occurred.  Pickwick,  not  at  first  a  very  flourish- 
ing publication,  stood  a  chance  of  coming  to  an  end. 
Seymour  occupied  a  prominent  position  in  the 
enterprise,  and  his  death  was  a  serious  blow.    The 


HABLOT    KNIGHT    BROWNE  7 

attempt  to  replace  him  by  Mr.  Buss  was  a  failure. 
Then  it  was  that  Browne  was  engaged  as  illustrator. 
His  offer  of  comic  drawings  was  accepted,  but  it 
was  because  he  was  a  competent  etcher  that  he 
came  to  the  front.  His  ability  as  a  designer  had 
to  be  proved,  though  indeed  it  had  been  exhibited 
on  the  plate  of  John  Gilpin,  which  was  an  original 
composition.  Whether  they  actually  took  Browne 
on  the  faith  of  John  Gilpin,  or  whether  he  offered 
himself,  or  whether  they  came  to  him,  is  not  known, 
but  such  reputation  as  he  had  won  was  due  to  his 
work  on  Winkle's  Cathedrals ^  in  everything  except 
the  significant  name  far  enough  away  from  Mr. 
Pickwick  and  his  friends. 

It  must  be  remembered  that  the  employment  of 
Phiz  as  the  etcher  of  illustrations  of  Dickens  and 
other  writers  brought  a  certain  amount  of  jobbing 
work  to  the  studio,  because  the  plates  for  the  larger 
issues  were  printed  rapidly,  in  order  to  fulfil  the  de- 
mand, and  therefore  deteriorated  to  such  an  extent 
as  to  require  repair.  This  work  was  of  course  done 
by  assistants. 

Some  years  ago,  one  pouring  wet  day,  I  took 
refuge  in  a  little  curiosity  shop  near  Leicester  Square. 
The  proprietor,  partly  to  pass  the  time,  and  partly 
to  magnify  himself  a  little,  told  me  that  he  was  a 
kind  of  literary  character,  having  stitched  the  first 


8  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

numbers  of  Pickwick,  which  he  considered  a  failure, 
till  the  fourth  number  ;  then  the  sales  went  up  with 
such  a  bound  that  he  had  to  employ  hands  to  carry 
out  his  contract.  "  It  was  Sam  Weller  that  did 
it,"  he  said  ;  then  after  a  pause,  "  and  the  illustra- 
tions." 

A  confirmatory  opinion  of  how  it  struck  contem- 
poraries is  afforded  by  a  review  in  the  Quarterly. 
The  reviewer  is  evidently  puzzled  to  account  for 
the  great  popularity  enjoyed  by  Pickwick,  which, 
as  we  know  from  my  friend  in  Leicester  Square, 
was  cumulative  from  the  fourth  number  onwards. 
When  the  last  number  was  published,  it  had  become 
emphatically  the  book  of  the  year.  The  reviewer 
remarks  on  the  absence  of  plot  and  says,  "  It  can 
hardly  be  as  a  story  that  the  book  before  us  has 
attained  its  popularity.  .  .  .  Our  next  proposition, 
that  Mr.  Dickens  does  not  strikingly  excel  in  his 
sketches  of  character  or  descriptions,  is,  we  feel, 
open  to  dispute,  and  it  is  far  from  our  intention  to 
deny  that  he  has  considerable  merit  in  both  respects, 
but  certainly  not  enough  to  found  a  reputation,  or 
account  for  a  tithe  of  his  popularity.  Incomparably 
one  of  the  best  sustained  characters  is  that  of  Mr. 
Pickwick,  whose  every  action  seems  influenced  by  the 
same  untiring  and  enlightened  spirit  of  philanthropy 
throughout." 


HABLOT    KNIGHT    BROWNE  9 

The  modern  reader  will  scarcely  agree  with  this 
estimate  of  Mr.  Pickwick.  He  will  probably  con- 
sider Sam  Weller  and  his  father  Tony  as  the  real 
heroes.  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  friends  only  occupy 
secondary  places — in  themselves  they  are  not  very 
amusing,  although  their  adventures  certainly  are. 

The  reviewer  goes  on  to  estimate  the  value  of  the 
illustrations.  Speaking  of  Mr.  Pickwick  sliding  on 
Wardle's  pond,  he  first  considers  that  scene  (as  a 
specimen  of  the  writing),  and  then  he  says  :  "  This 
scene,  with  all  its  bearings,  is  brought  fully  home 
to  the  mind's  eye,  without  the  aid  of  Phiz's  illus- 
trative sketch  ;  but  the  success  of  many  other  pas- 
sages is  due  in  a  great  measure  to  the  skill  of  that 
artist  in  embodying  them.  Indeed,  only  a  faint 
notion  could  be  formed  of  the  outward  man  of  the 
great  Pickwick  himself  from  the  scattered  hints 
afforded  in  the  letterpress  ;  namely,  that  he  wore 
tights,  gaiters,  and  spectacles.  It  is  the  pencil, 
not  the  pen,  which  completes  the  vivid  conception 
we  undoubtedly  possess  of  his  personal  appearance  ; 
and  how  tame,  without  that,  would  be  such  situations 
as  those  in  which  he  is  detected  holding  Mrs.  Bardell 
in  his  arms,  or  represented  peeping  through  the 
bed  curtains  at  the  unknown  lady  at  the  inn." 

The  reader  will  remember  that  the  portrait  of 
Mr.  Pickwick  was  drawn  by  Seymour. 


10  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

Mr.  J.  G.  Fennell,  another  friend,  was  clerk  at 
Finden's,  and  had  the  business  details  at  his  finger 
ends.  He  seems  to  have  occupied  himself  in  acting 
as  intermediary  between  promising  young  artists  in 
want  of  cash  and  likely  purchasers.  In  this  manner 
he  offered  the  plate  of  John  Gilpin  to  Chapman 
and  Hall,  probably  to  put  in  their  window  for  sale. 
Later  on  he  appears  to  have  got  some  commissions 
for  Browne  for  small  illustrations  to  pamphlets 
entitled  "  Sunday  under  Three  Heads,"  and  studies 
of  young  couples,  and  others  which  were  in  reality 
early  efforts  of  Charles  Dickens,  under  various 
pseudonyms,  including  Boz.  So  that  Dickens  and 
Browne  really  stood  in  relation  to  one  another  as 
author  and  illustrator  from  an  early  date,  though 
neither  of  them  had  seen  the  other,  nor  indeed  was 
aware  of  his  real  name.  After  Phiz  became  a  busy 
man  Mr.  Fennell's  occupation  was  gone,  so  far  as 
Browne  was  concerned.  In  later  years,  when 
Browne  was  occupying  himself  with  water-colour 
drawing,  Fennell  again  came  on  the  scene,  and 
must  have  effected  many  sales.  Browne  himself 
was  quite  incapable  of  selling  anything,  but  Fennell 
was  full  of  enterprise  and  push,  and  as  an  Irish 
friend  said  to  me,  "  He  would  make  a  living  in  a 
desert  island,  where  you  and  I  would  starve." 

The  following  correspondence   indicates   his  re- 


HABLOT    KNIGHT   BROWNE  ii 

source  and  cleverness  when  he  was  desirous  of 
gaining  his  point.  He  was  a  fisherman,  and 
desired  to  have  some  fishing  in  water  belong- 
ing to  Lord  D ,  and  wrote  as  follows :    "  Mr. 

J.   G.   Fennell   presents   his   compliments  to  Lord 

D ,  and  requests  permission  for  a  day's  fishing 

in   such  and   such  waters,   &c."    The    reply  was, 

"  Lord    D presents    his    compliments   to    Mr. 

J.  G.  Fennell,  and  begs  to  inform  him  that  he  only 
gives  permission  to  fish  to  his  relations  and  intimate 
friends."  "  Mr.  J.  G.  Fennell  presents  his  com- 
pliments to  Lord  D ,  and  learns  with  deep  regret 

that  his  Lordship  only  gives  permission  to  fish  to 
his  relations  and  intimate  friends.  Mr.  J.  G.  Fennell 
begs  to  remind  his  Lordship  that  it  is  not  his 
fault  that  he  is  neither  the  one  nor  the  other." 

His  Lordship  evidently  had  a  sense  of  humour, 
for  Fennell  got  his  fishing. 

Just  about  the  time  of  the  completion  of  Pickwick, 
in  the  winter  of  1838,  Browne  went  with  Dickens 
on  a  special  journey  to  Yorkshire  to  inspect  some 
schools  which  had  obtained  an  evil  reputation,  and 
to  collect  materials  for  the  opening  chapters  of 
Nicholas  Nicklehy.  They  seem  to  have  fastened 
on  one  particular  man  as  the  model  for  Squeers. 
I  once  asked  my  father  what  the  original  man  was 
really  like.     He  went  so  far  as  to  say  that  the  etching 


12  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

was  not  unlike  him.  The  particular  features  of 
the  school  as  represented  by  both  author  and  illus- 
trator are  probably  largely  imaginary,  but  the  journey 
goes  to  show  that  some  effort  was  made  to  establish 
a  basis  of  fact.  It  is  by  no  means  certain  that  they 
got  hold  of  the  right  man.  Some  of  the  material, 
including  a  wonderful  letter  from  a  father  to  a  son 
who  would  not  eat  boiled  mutton,  was  not  derived 
from  the  man  in  question,  but  from  a  schoolmistress 
whom  they  met  in  the  coach,  who  succumbed  to 
the  effects  of  liquor  before  she  went  to  bed.  John 
Browdie  does  not  seem  exactly  like  a  Yorkshire- 
man,  but  he  is  certainly  quite  unlike  a  Londoner, 
and  may  be  counted  as  part  of  the  spoils  of  the 
expedition. 

Afterwards  they  made  a  journey  together  into 
the  Midlands  through  Shakespere's  country.  They 
posted  from  Stratford  to  Shrewsbury  through 
Birmingham  and  Wolverhampton,  where  they  had 
their  first  glimpse  of  the  black  country,  the  begin- 
ning of  that  devastating  industrialism  which  has 
since  spread  over  many  of  the  fairest  spots  in  Eng- 
land. To  this  there  is  a  reference  in  a  letter  from 
Dickens  to  his  wife.  "  Starting  at  eight  o'clock, 
through  a  cold  wet  fog,  and  travelling  when  the 
day  had  cleared  up,  through  miles  of  cinder  paths, 
and  blazing  furnaces,  and   roaring  steam  engines. 


HABLOT    KNIGHT    BROWNE  13 

and  such  a  mass  of  dirt  and  gloom  and  misery  as 
I  never  before  witnessed." 

Then  further  he  says,  "  We  were  at  the  play 
last  night.  It  was  a  bespeak — '  The  Love  Chase/ 
a  ballet  (with  a  Phenomenon),  divers  songs,  and 
*  A  Roland  for  an  Oliver.'  It  is  a  good  theatre,  but 
the  actors  are  very  funny.  Browne  laughed  with 
such  indecent  heartiness  at  one  point  of  the  enter- 
tainment, that  an  old  gentleman  in  the  next  box 
suffered  the  most  violent  indignation.  The  be- 
speak party  occupied  two  boxes,  the  ladies  were 
full-dressed,  and  the  gentlemen,  to  a  man,  in  white 
gloves,  with  flowers  in  their  buttonholes.  It  amused 
us  mightily,  and  was  really  as  like  the  Miss  Snevel- 
licci  business  as  it  could  well  be." 

From  here  they  went  on  to  Manchester,  where 
they  had  some  letters  of  introduction  to  persons 
who  could  help  them  to  see  the  sights,  in  the  shape 
of  the  cotton  mills  and  factories,  but  the  important 
persons  they  saw  were  the  two  brothers  Grant, 
who  afterwards  figured  as  the  Cheeryble  brothers 
in  Nicholas  Nicklehy. 

When  I  first  came  to  Liverpool,  an  old  lady  told 
me  she  was  intimately  acquainted  with  the  originals 
of  the  Cheeryble  brothers,  and  described  them  as 
self-made  men  of  great  wealth  and  boundless  gener- 
osity.    She  considered  the  descriptions  very  good. 


CHAPTER  II 

HIS   LIFE   AND   FRIENDS   IN   LONDON 

During  the  time  Browne  remained  in  London  he 
mixed  in  a  circle  of  friends  and  acquaintances  all 
occupied  with  the  arts,  and  capable  of  stimulating 
his  activities,  encouraging  him  and  criticising  his 
works.  He  knew  what  was  going  on  in  the  world  of 
art  among  the  younger  men.  He  was  appreciated 
and  he  was  criticised  ;  he  had,  in  short,  that  mis- 
cellaneous teaching  that  comes  from  emulation  in 
a  common  pursuit. 

We  have  a  glimpse  of  him  at  a  party  at  the  house 
of  John  Lucas,  a  fashionable  portrait  painter,  where 
he  was  evidently  sociable.  I  owe  this  fact  to  an 
extract  from  a  private  letter  by  Miss  Mitford.  She 
writes  : 

"  I  passed  one  evening  in  town  with  dear  Mr. 
Lucas.  He  is  painting  Prince  Albert  just  now. 
He  speaks  very  highly  of  him,  and  of  his  knowledge 
and  love  of  art  especially.  He  says  that  he  could  not 
speak  with  more  taste  of  painting  if  he  had  studied 
under  Raphael.    At  Mr.  Lucas's  I  met  Mr.  Browne, 


SKlvTCll    OF    A    GIRL 
//  'atvr-colotir — early  period. 


LIFE   AND    FRIENDS    IN    LONDON    15 

the  young  artist  who,  under  the  name  of  *  Phiz,'  has 
so  much  aided  Dickens'  reputation.  He  has  just 
returned  from  Brussels,  where  he  had  been  spend- 
ing three  weeks  with  Mr.  Lever  ('  Harry  Lorrequer '), 
and  of  him  he  speaks  enthusiastically,  as  the  pleas- 
antest  man  in  the  world,  his  store  of  anecdote  never 
flagging  for  a  moment. 
*'I  like  Mr.  Browne  himself  exceedingly. 

'^January  lo,  1852." 

The  fame  of  John  Lucas  has  not  endured  to  the 
present  day  ;  his  pictures  have  certainly  not  yet 
been  boomed  in  the  auction-room,  nor  is  he  men- 
tioned in  ordinary  biographical  dictionaries,  but 
in  his  day  he  was  somebody.  In  a  review  in  an 
old  number  of  the  Illustrated  London  News,  1^43  > 
of  the  Royal  Academy  exhibition,  he  is  mentioned 
as  showing  a  portrait  of  Lady  Mary  Vyner  and  her 
son.  The  reviewer  seems  to  have  been  a  person 
of  discernment,  as  he  picks  out  Turner  for  special 
commendation,  and  advises  Etty  to  study  a  particular 
picture  of  Rubens  for  his  improvement.  He  says  : 
*'  The  great  deficiency  of  modern  portraiture  is 
found  in  a  want  of  that  vivid  individuality  which 
living  originals  always  present.  The  picture  before 
us  is  a  partial  exception  to  the  remark,  but  not  in 
a  degree  to   command  great  praise.     It  is   thinly 


i6  PHIZ   AND   DICKENS 

but  carefully  painted,  and  the  hands  are  drawn 
with  more  than  usual  accuracy  " — from  which  we 
gather  Mr.  Lucas  was  probably  not  at  his  best 
that  year. 

In  the  same  number,  a  half-page  illustration  of 
the  public  viewing  the  exhibition  can  be  ascribed, 
on  internal  evidence,  to  John  Leech,  of  whom 
mention  is  made  hereafter. 

I  remember,  when  I  was  a  very  small  and  very 
inquisitive  boy,  being  taken  by  my  mother  for  an 
afternoon  call  at  Lucas'  house  in  St.  John's  Wood. 
I  still  retain  the  impression  of  the  splendour  of  the 
house,  and  the  magnificence  of  his  garden  enclosed 
by  walls  in  the  usual  St.  John's  Wood  fashion,  and 
I  have  still  a  preference,  probably  from  my  early 
association,  for  this  form  of  housing  the  middle 
classes.  It  is  sad  to  think  that  all  this  magnificence 
has  probably  been  swallowed  up  in  workmen's  flats. 

Other  friends  there  were  probably  not  so  high 
up  on  the  ladder  of  fame,  among  whom  we  may 
count  John  Wood,  an  unfashionable  portrait  painter, 
who  painted  in  backgrounds  and  drapery  for  his 
more  fortunate  friend  and  others.  He  was  dis- 
tinguished as  being  the  first  man  whose  pictures 
were  burgled  by  being  cut  out  of  their  frames.  The 
robbers  must  have  made  a  poor  haul,  and  probably 
had  mistaken  the  house. 


LIFE   AND    FRIENDS    IN    LONDON    17 

Daniel  Maclise,  an  excellent  draughtsman,  the 
leader  of  the  romantic  school,  who  described  him- 
self as  hindered  in  his  painting  by  seeing  too  much. 
His  brother,  Joseph  Maclise,  was  almost,  if  not  quite, 
as  good  a  draughtsman,  although  he  was  a  surgeon. 

Then  there  was  W.  P.  Frith,  who  advised  Browne 
to  paint  scenes  from  real  life,  and  was  most  suc- 
cessful when  he  followed  his  own  receipt.  It  is 
rather  the  fashion  to  decry  Mr.  Frith,  but  he  has  left 
some  works  which  in  a  faithful  manner  portray 
his  own  times.  Curiously,  though  he  always  em- 
bodied a  story  in  his  pictures,  he  was  singularly 
uninventive,  and  later  on  in  life  went  so  far  as 
to  offer  ;(^ioo  to  anyone  who  would  find  him  a 
subject.  Popular  pictures  such  as  Ramsgate 
Sands,  The  Derby  Day,  The  Railway  Station, 
lasted  him  a  long  time,  and  brought  in  consider- 
able sums. 

Patrick  Park,  a  sculptor,  was  also  a  friend,  of 
whom  I  have  not  found  any  record.  He  especially 
admired  my  mother's  hands,  and  cast  and  modelled 
them  several  times.  I  used  to  hear  him  spoken  of 
a  good  deal  at  home. 

Another  of  my  father's  acquaintances  was  Thacke- 
ray, who,  like  Buridan's  donkey,  hovered  uncertainly 
between  the  arts  and  literature,  until,  by  his  fortu- 
nate rejection  as  an  illustrator  by  Dickens  and  his 


B 


1 8  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

happy  acceptance  as  a  writer  by  Punchy  it  was  de- 
cided for  him  in  favour  of  Hterature.  I  beheve  his 
influence,  with  his  knowledge,  his  sane  outlook  on 
life,  and  his  appreciation  of  its  pathetic  and  humo- 
rous sides,  would  have  been  most  beneficial  to  my 
father.  I  have  always  thought  Thackeray's  illus- 
trations underrated.  They  were  often  ill-drawn,  un- 
finished, and  the  characters'  clothes  were  generally 
floppy  and  flappy,  but  there  was  nearly  always  a 
clear  presentation  of  the  idea.  The  initial  letters 
at  beginning  of  chapters  were  among  the  very 
best  that  were  ever  executed.  The  Christmas  Books 
illustrated  by  himself,  or  rather,  I  should  say,  written 
to  his  own  illustrations,  still  delight  us.  His  draw- 
ing was  not  sufficiently  good  to  allow  him  to  picture 
a  pathetic  situation,  but  except  in  that  particular 
he  is  entitled  to  an  honourable  place  among  the 
humorous  draughtsmen  of  his  time. 

Beyond  these,  Browne  was  brought  into  contact 
with  many  men  in  the  making,  at  the  Langham 
Sketching  Club,  which  met  about  once  a  week, 
and  may  be  in  existence  at  the  present  day.  Here 
the  work  was  of  the  nature  of  exercises.  All  took 
part,  and  as  subjects  varied  a  good  deal,  each  man's 
excellences  and  deficiencies  were  revealed.  It  was 
the  only  thing  I  ever  heard  him  lament  giving  up. 
"  I  used  to  enjoy  my  evenings  at  the  Langham," 


LIFE   AND    FRIENDS    IN    LONDON    19 

he  said,  and  when  he  came  back  to  London  I  urged 
him  to  rejoin,  but  it  was  too  late. 

Besides  this  he  did  some  intermittent  work  at  a 
private  school  for  art,  perhaps  the  original  of  Gan- 
dish's,  and  certainly  bearing  a  close  resemblance 
to  it,  so  amusingly  described  by  Thackeray  in  The 
Newcomes.  These  private  schools  (with  the  ex- 
ception of  Heatherley's  in  Newman  Street)  were 
mostly  killed  by  the  extension  of  the  Government 
system,  but  they  served  a  purpose  as  affording  a 
place  of  practice  for  those  who  either  could  not  or 
did  not  want  to  join  the  Academy.  Here  Browne 
must  have  made  many  acquaintances,  but  he  was 
especially  attracted  by  Etty,  whose  work  interested 
him  considerably. 

Browne  evidently  knew  Leech  from  his  earliest 
days.  He  told  me  he  had  been  to  his  studio  in  the 
beginning,  and  it  contained  a  very  large  easel,  and 
scarcely  anything  else,  evidently  in  preparation  for 
some  great  work  which  was  never  even  begun. 
Indeed  Leech  seems  to  have  lost  all  desire  or  apti- 
tude for  painting  early  in  his  career. 

One  day  when  walking  with  my  father  down 
Regent  Street  we  met  Leech.  While  we  were 
chatting  a  man  came  up  and  very  politely  said, 
"  Have  I  the  pleasure  of  speaking  to  Mr.  Leech  ?  " 
"  You   have."     He   took   him   on   one   side   for  a 


20  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

minute  or  so.  Leech  on  rejoining  us  told  us 
the  man  was  quite  unknown  to  him,  but  that 
he  had  given  him  a  joke  for  Punch.  He 
said  people  frequently  did  offer  him  subjects 
in  this  manner.  Most  of  his  work  was  executed 
on  wood,  and  appeared  in  the  pages  of  Punch.  I 
was  astonished  when  looking  through  his  scrap- 
books,  where  he  seems  to  have  preserved  any  designs 
he  had  ever  made,  to  notice  how  tentative  and  hesi- 
tating they  were,  the  figures  being  mapped  out  by 
little  short  strokes  more  like  the  work  of  an  amateur 
than  a  professional.  One  of  my  father's  designs 
for  the  Knight  of  Gwynne,  which  was  amongst  them, 
was  remarkable  by  its  contrast  of  precision  and 
directness.  But  when  Leech  came  actually  to  draw 
on  the  wood  all  indecision  vanished,  and  he  drew 
with  firm,  strong,  impressive  lines.  He  was  essen- 
tially a  comic  draughtsman,  that  is  to  say,  the  draw- 
ings themselves  were  funny  and  mirth-provoking 
without  any  aid  from  the  legend  or  literary  expla- 
nation beneath.  He  excelled  in  the  delineation  of 
respectable  middle-aged  gentlemen  in  farcical  pre- 
dicaments. There  is  a  whole  series  extending  over 
a  great  length  of  time  recording  the  experiences 
of  Mr.  Briggs,  who,  in  his  own  way,  was  as  funny 
as  Mr.  Pickwick.  Besides  woodcuts,  he  executed 
a  number  of  etchings  illustrative  of  Surtees'  sport- 


LIFE   AND    FRIENDS    IN    LONDON    21 

ing  novels,  comic  histories  of  Rome  and  England, 
and  Dickens*  Christmas  Books.  The  etchings  were 
very  slight  in  character,  but  were  given  solidity  by 
being  coloured.  This  was  a  primitive  process. 
Leech  of  course  set  the  pattern,  the  copyist  would 
spread  out  a  number  of  prints  all  round  a  large 
table,  having  a  number  of  saucers  ready  prepared 
with  the  appropriate  tints,  blue  for  skies,  red  for 
hunting  coats,  brown  for  earth,  and  then  would 
start  off  and  tint  all  the  skies,  then  all  the  coats, 
and  so  on,  till  every  object  was  separately  coloured, 
and  the  work  was  done.  The  effect  was  certainly 
gay,  but  generally  too  crude  to  be  pleasant.  The 
excellent  etchings  to  the  Chimes  are  considerably 
injured  by  the  crudeness  of  their  colouring. 

Somewhere  about  i860  a  process  was  invented 
and  taken  up  by  Bradbury  by  which  drawings  could 
be  enlarged  or  diminished.  The  design  was  drawn 
or  printed  on  a  block  of  indiarubber,  which  by  a 
specially  contrived  apparatus  could  be  drawn  out  and 
expanded,  or  allowed  to  contract  and  diminished. 
A  number  of  Leech's  drawings  from  Punch  were 
so  treated,  and  greatly  enlarged,  and  then  coloured 
by  Leech  himself,  and  were  shown  in  an  exhibition 
at  the  Egyptian  Hall.  They  were  afterwards  re- 
produced by  some  process  of  colour  printing  and 
sold  to  the  public,  and  specimens  may  often  be  seen 


22  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

framed  as  decorations  to  halls  and  billiard-rooms 
in  country  houses.  The  drawings  themselves  suf- 
fered by  their  increase  in  size.  Leech  was  a  very 
amiable  man,  but  in  the  latter  part  of  his  life  he 
became  irritable,  over-sensitive  to  noises,  and  was 
positively  vindictive  towards  barrel-organ  grinders. 
His  death  was  currently  reported  to  have  been  due 
to  mental  overstrain,  but  bearing  in  mind  that  a 
man  in  easy  circumstances  can  recover  from  that 
condition  by  a  few  months'  rest,  it  seems  more 
probable  that  he  died  from  some  definite  disease, 
of  which  nervous  irritability  was  merely  a  symptom. 
"  God  knows,"  said  Mr.  Evans  to  my  father,  "  'tis 
not  from  any  overwork  we  gave  him  ;  he  did  what 
he  liked,  and  it  has  been  for  years  considerably  less 
than  was  originally  arranged."  His  death  created 
a  blank  which  has  never  been  filled. 

George  Cruikshank  was  twenty  years  older  than 
Dickens,  but  may  be  counted  amongst  the  early 
Victorians,  as  he  illustrated  the  collected  Sketches 
by  BoZy  about  1833,  and  later  on  Oliver  Twist. 
He  was  incomparably  the  finest  etcher  of  his  time, 
and  his  work  is  known  all  over  the  civilised  globe. 
Although  he  was  a  caricaturist  as  regards  his  figures, 
he  was  a  realist  in  regard  to  all  the  objects  composing 
his  picture.  He  excelled  in  the  representation  of 
squalor  and   misery  ;    a   slum,  a  workhouse  ward, 


LIFE   AND    FRIENDS    IN    LONDON    23 

a  scullery  or  a  prison  ;  he  drew  household  imple- 
ments, tools,  the  mean  furniture  of  mean  houses 
with  the  fidelity  of  a  Dutchman.  He  had  no  sense 
of  beauty  either  in  architecture,  landscape,  or  the 
female  figure.  Sir  Frederick  Wedmore  goes  so 
far  as  to  say,  in  an  article  in  the  Fortnightly  Review, 
"  He  drew  horses  badly,  dogs  indifferently ,  women 
atrociously." 

I  have  seen  him  frequently.  His  face  appeared 
to  me  extremely  individual  and  of  an  exceptional 
type.  I  used  to  think  he  had  a  Jewish  look,  but  I 
doubt  if  it  was  more  than  a  casual  resemblance  to 
the  Semitic  type.  He  was  reported  to  have  an 
enormous  family,  but  his  gifts  do  not  seem  to  have 
been  inherited  ;  at  all  events,  none  of  his  children 
have  become  known  in  the  arts.  In  his  latter  years 
he  became  a  violent  teetotaler,  and  published  his 
powerful  set  of  drawings  called  "  The  Bottle," 
illustrating  the  downfall  of  a  family  who  began  a 
career  of  drunkenness  by  unfortunately  taking  a 
glass  of  spirits  to  aid  the  digestion  of  a  roast  goose  ! 

In  the  illustration  to  chapter  xlvi.  of  Dojnbey,  re- 
presenting Mr.  Carker  riding  home,  among  a  number 
of  placards  to  be  seen  on  the  wall  which  forms  the 
background,  the  most  conspicuous  is  that  of  Cruik- 
shank's  Bottle,  a  delicate  compliment  from  Browne 
to    his    distinguished    contemporary.     He    lived    to 


24  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

a  great  age,  retained  his  physical  vigour,  and  was 
proud  of  being  able  to  dance  a  hornpipe  at  the  age 
of  eighty.  He  was  fully  persuaded,  and  persuaded 
some  others,  that  he  was  the  author  of  Oliver  Twist. 
The  same  form  of  hallucination,  in  a  more  altruistic 
form,  haunts  some  people  with  regard  to  the  author- 
ship of  Midsummer  Nighfs  Dream.  It  seems  a 
pity  that  a  lapse  of  about  three  hundred  years  pre- 
vented Cruikshank  from  illustrating  Bacon. 

I  never  saw  Doyle.  His  work  was  greatly  esteemed 
in  our  house,  and  the  lamp  of  his  charming  fancy 
helped  to  banish  the  gloom  in  which  the  early 
Victorians  were  supposed  to  live.  He  so  far  re- 
sembled Browne  that  he  depended  on  his  imagination 
for  his  designs,  and  never  used  a  model.  He  was 
not  so  excellent  in  dealing  with  real  life  as  he  was 
with  fairies,  grotesques,  and  other  personages  not 
inhabitants  of  this  base  world.  He  had  a  comrade- 
ship with  elves  and  fairies,  but  he  successfully  illus- 
trated The  Newcomes,  and  his  etchings  executed 
for  that  book  have  certainly  a  very  considerable 
grace  and  character.  Still  more  original  are  the 
small  woodcuts  and  initial  letters  interpolated  in 
the  text.  One  of  his  works  continues  to  have  the 
most  enduring  fame,  and  is  viewed  once  a  week  by 
all  English-speaking  persons  without  satiety,  although 
they  have  seen  it  fifty  times  a  year  for  seventy  years. 


LIFE   AND    FRIENDS    IN    LONDON    25 

The  front  cover  of  Punch  in  decorative  effect  and 
lively  fancy  and  aptness  of  character  has  never 
been  equalled,  and  we  should  just  as  soon  think  of 
changing  it  as  we  should  think  of  altering  the  royal 
arms. 

He  left  the  staff  of  Punch  at  the  time  of  the  Papal 
aggression.  His  most  popular  work  was  the  Tour 
of  Brown,  Jones  and  Robinson  on  the  Continent.  He 
also  drew  a  few  illustrations  for  Dickens'  Christmas 
Books. 

Doyle's  father  was  a  political  caricaturist  who 
enjoyed  a  considerable  reputation  in  his  time.  His 
portraits,  half  fact  and  half  fancy,  resembled  those 
which  have  since  appeared  in  Vanity  Fair,  except 
that  they  were  lithographs  executed  in  black  and 
white  instead  of  colours.  He  signed  them  for  some 
unknown  reason  H.  B.,  and  in  later  days  the  works 
were  not  unnaturally  attributed  to  Phiz.  In  fact 
some  people  have  so  strongly  held  this  view,  that  in 
spite  of  my  denials  they  have  insisted  that  he  was 
not  only  the  author  of  these  works,  but  of  my  being. 
Truly  it  is  a  wise  son  who  knows  his  own  father, 
but  I  may  be  permitted  to  know  who  was  not,  and 
on  this  head  I  am  confident. 


CHAPTER    III 

HOME   LIFE   IN   CROYDON 

We  moved  to  Croydon  on  account  of  my  mother's 
health.  The  move  answered  its  purposes ;  my 
mother  recovered  her  natural  activity,  and  from 
being  a  person  who  required  waiting  upon,  became 
one  who  looked  after  everybody  else. 

Croydon  was  then  a  country  town  about  ten  miles 
from  London  on  the  Brighton  road,  passing  through 
Brixton  and  Streatham.  We  often  drove  into  town, 
putting  the  pony  and  trap  at  livery  at  a  stable  on 
the  Surrey  side  of  Westminster  Bridge  during  the 
time  we  were  occupied  with  our  business.  Or, 
if  we  pleased,  we  could  go  by  railway  to  London 
Bridge  by  a  train,  not  drawn  by  a  locomotive,  but 
propelled  by  an  atmospheric  tube,  a  mechanism 
which  soon  became  obsolete.  Things  were  so  primi- 
tive that  a  porter  used  to  come  out  from  the  station 
yard  into  the  road  and  ring  a  big  dinner-bell  five 
minutes  before  the  train  started.  We  lived  about 
three-quarters  of  a  mile  from  the  station  on  the 
London  road,  in  a  sort  of  outskirt  of  Croydon, 
called  Thornton  Heath.    The  house  was  small  and 

36 


HOME   LIFE    IN    CROYDON  27 

straggling,  and  had  been  contrived  by  knocking 
two  still  smaller  into  one.  Consequently  one  side 
was  a  very  funny  duplicate  of  the  other — two  little 
entrances,  two  little  staircases,  two  little  front  rooms, 
were  visible  from  whichever  door  you  entered, 
so  that  strangers  were  often  brought  to  great  con- 
fusion by  the  superfluity  of  landmarks,  and  turned 
in  wrong  directions  to  recover  their  hats  and  coats, 
although  the  place  was  so  small.  The  ground 
floors,  however,  towards  the  back,  were  not  exactly 
symmetrical.  On  the  southern  side  was  the  kitchen 
and  its  offices,  with  a  little  back  stair  leading  to  the 
servants'  bedrooms,  but  on  the  northern  side  the 
kitchen  had  been  absorbed  and  thrown  into  another 
room  to  make  a  really  good  dining-room,  and  at 
the  back  of  the  house,  on  the  first  floor,  and  ap- 
proached by  a  separate  staircase,  making  the  fourth, 
was  the  Governor's  studio,  a  room  held  sacred,  and 
supposed  to  be  full  of  invisible  dangers  for  intruders, 
like  Bluebeard's  chamber.  By  joining  the  original 
two  gardens  together  a  very  good  one  had  been 
formed,  growing  plenty  of  fruit  on  trees  and  bushes, 
besides  a  profusion  of  old-fashioned  flowers.  We 
were  especially  proud  of  an  acacia  tree,  partly  be- 
cause it  was  supposed  to  be  a  rarity,  and  partly 
because  it  served  as  shelter  for  out-of-door  tea  in 
fine  weather  ;  but  the  crowning  glory  was  a  morella 


28  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

cherry-tree,  which  bore  exactly  the  proper  fruit  for 
conversion  into  cherry-brandy.  At  the  end  was 
the  field  which  served  for  pasturing  the  animals. 
There  was  also  a  pond  which  we  used  for  launching 
Robinson  Crusoe's  raft.  This  magnificent  structure 
took  weeks  to  build,  and  invariably  overset  on  its 
first  voyage,  submerging  its  crew.  No  matter  how 
often  the  attempt  was  made,  the  result  seemed 
always  the  same. 

We  were  separated  from  our  neighbours  partly  by 
a  row  of  trees  and  partly  by  stables,  which  would 
appear  to  modern  eyes  considerably  too  large  for 
the  house.  We  lived  a  good  deal  in  the  trees  and 
the  sloping  roof  between  our  own  and  our  neigh- 
bours' stables.  We  mostly  lived  free  from  the 
embarrassing  presence  of  grown-ups,  as  pirates 
or  Saracens,  or  other  terrible  kinds  of  men,  and  we 
were  wont  to  summon  three  girls  who  lived  next 
door,  and  who  were  treated  as  female  slaves. 

Years  afterwards,  one  day  when  I  was  sitting 
in  the  sun  on  the  shore  at  Hastings  recovering 
from  an  illness,  I  noticed  a  nice-looking  lady  ap- 
proaching me  with  her  eyes  fixed  intently  on  my 
face.  When  she  came  close  to  me  a  gleam  of  recol- 
lection passed  over  her  face,  and  she  said,  "  I  am 
sure  you  are  Edgar  Browne."  I  replied,  "  I  also  am 
sure  on  that  point."     She  then  told  me  she  was  one 


HOME    LIFE    IN    CROYDON  29 

of  the  girls  who  lived  next  door  at  Croydon,  and  had 
been  for  some  time  happily  married  and  the  mother 
of  children.  She  was  so  feminine,  sympathetic, 
and  gentle,  that  I  felt  hideously  ashamed  that  I  had 
formerly  driven  her  round  the  garden  with  a  whip. 
I  have  always  lamented  since  that  I  had  not  suffi- 
cient presence  of  mind  to  ask  her  address  before 
she  rejoined  her  friends. 

The  Governor  laid  claim  to  the  whole  of  the  lower 
parts  of  the  stables,  and  kept  there  a  strong  saddle- 
horse,  which  could  be  used  as  hack  or  hunter,  a 
big  pony  (or  cob)  which  could  be  driven  in  the 
chaise  or  do  an  easy  day's  hunting.  There  was 
also  at  times  a  donkey  with  two  panniers,  a  goat 
and  a  carriage  which  was  used  for  a  small  person 
to  practise  driving.  When  there  was  not  a  small 
person  of  the  appropriate  size  the  goat  or  donkey 
would  be  temporarily  abolished,  but  the  two  horses 
constituted  a  permanent  stud  ;  and  there  were 
also  two  Scotch  terriers. 

This  rambling  place  was  exactly  suited  to  Browne's 
wants  and  his  temperament.  He  was  extremely 
industrious,  and  disappeared  into  his  studio  soon 
after  breakfast,  and  sometimes  could  only  with 
the  greatest  difficulty  be  brought  down  to  meals. 
In  the  winter  he  hunted  with  some  regularity,  and 
the  rest  of  the  year  rode  about  a  good  deal  in  the 


30  PHIZ  AND    DICKENS 

country  in  the  afternoons.  He  often  took  one  of  us 
boys  with  him  and  gave  us  practical  hints  in  horse- 
manship. These  were  sometimes  a  Httle  rough.  I 
have  a  vivid  remembrance  of  the  cob  putting  his 
foot  in  a  rabbit  hole  on  Smithum's  bottom,  and 
flinging  me  outspread  like  a  frog  on  the  hard  chalky 
surface  of  the  downs,  not  at  all  mitigated  by  what 
appears  to  be  a  covering  of  grass.  I  recall  the  sound 
of  the  fall,  and  the  universal  shake  up  of  every 
atom  of  my  body,  and  hearing  the  Governor's  voice, 
apparently  from  an  enormous  distance,  asking  if  I 
were  dead.     I  rather  wished  I  had  been. 

Our  home  resembled  some  couple  of  hundred 
or  so  that  stretched  along  the  line  of  the  Brighton 
road.  Of  what  happened  in  the  homes  of  the  very 
rich  I  can  scarcely  speak,  but  the  professional 
classes  have  never  been  more  comfortable  than  they 
were  in  the  early  Victorian  years.  Parsons,  doctors, 
lawyers,  authors,  artists,  and  returned  Anglo-Indians 
lived  comfortably  on  moderate  but  sufficient  in- 
comes. Competition  was  not  severe,  and  industry 
in  any  profession  would  secure  a  livelihood — open- 
ings were  not  difficult  to  find. 

Home  life  was  remarkably  simple  and  compara- 
tively cheap,  as  very  little  was  sacrificed  to  display, 
and  next  to  nothing  on  luxury.  Food  was  plain 
and  very  solid,  and,  I  may  add,  genuine.     The  roast 


# 


FIVE  SKETCHES   ILLUSTRATING   TIIi:    HUMOURS   OF   A    RACECOURSE 

Pen  ami  Ink,  on  LctUr  Paper 
Early  drawings  showing  habit  of  jo/ling  down  ideas  as  Ihey  occurred. 


HOME    LIFE    IN    CROYDON  31 

beef  of  Old  England  was  not  from  America,  and  was 
not  baked.  Entrees  were  called  "  made  dishes," 
and  in  some  houses  tabooed  as  "  kickshaws,"  a 
species  of  food  only  fit  for  foreigners.  Fruit  was 
seldom  imported  from  a  greater  distance  than  the 
next  county,  except  in  the  case  of  oranges,  figs, 
raisins,  and  the  like,  and  therefore  the  limits  of  the 
seasons  were  rigidly  defined  and  maintained.  There 
was  a  firm  belief  in  the  virtues  of  port  as  a  tonic. 
Formal  dinner  parties  were  rare,  but  there  was  a 
great  deal  of  dining  together  in  a  casual  way.  The 
dinner-hour  varied  surprisingly,  according  to  the 
season  and  our  occupations  ;  sometimes  you  might 
suppose  it  to  be  lunch,  and  another  time  suppose 
it  to  be  supper,  and  nobody,  not  even  the  cook, 
seemed  to  mind.  As  there  were  no  telephones,  a 
good  supply  of  eatables  was  kept  in  the  larder  for 
emergencies,  as  people  had  a  habit  of  "  dropping 
in  to  dinner,"  as  the  phrase  ran,  and  our  nearest 
tradesman  being  half  a  mile  off,  someone  on  occa- 
sions had  to  go  off  hurriedly  on  the  pony  to  get  an 
extra  chop. 

This  kind  of  irregularity  was  not  peculiar  to  us, 
on  account  of  the  artistic  temperament  of  the  head 
of  the  household.  It  was  more  or  less  common  at 
this  period.  The  railway  has  been  the  real  promoter 
of   regularity   and   punctuality  in   daily   life.    The 


32  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

train  presses  more  inexorably  on  the  doings  of  a 
household  than  time  or  tide,  which  were  the 
stimuli  relied  on  by  our  forefathers  for  egging  on 
laggards. 

There  was  a  much  greater  friendliness  between 
mistress  and  servant  than  in  the  present  day,  though 
the  class  distinctions  were  much  more  strongly 
marked.  No  servant  ever  thought  she  was  a  lady  ; 
nor  did  a  mistress,  though  she  might  make  a  friend 
of  a  servant,  consider  her  on  the  same  level  as  her- 
self. The  footing  of  mistress  and  servant  is  very 
well  described  in  the  account  of  Mrs.  Copperfield 
and  Clara  Peggotty.  In  the  morning  servants  ap- 
peared in  short  sleeves,  showing  a  considerable 
proportion  of  red  arm,  in  the  afternoon  they  changed 
into  long-sleeved  gowns.  There  was  great  restric- 
tion in  the  amount  of  liberty  allowed  for  going 
out,  and  kitchen  visitors,  called  "  followers,"  were 
regarded  with  suspicion,  and  sometimes  entirely 
prohibited. 

Croydon  was  situated  in  a  most  beautiful  country. 
London  bricks  and  mortar  extended  no  nearer 
to  us  than  Brixton,  which  was  then  a  compact  and 
grubby  suburb.  Intervening  there  were  commons 
— Streatham,  Tooting,  Balham — and  only  scattered 
houses.  East,  west,  and  south  was  entirely  country — 
hills,  heaths,  commons,  scattered  villages  and  small 


HOME    LIFE    IN    CROYDON  33 

towns,  extending  into  Kent,  Sussex,  and  Hamp- 
shire. 

As  boys  we  were  given  great  liberty  in  wandering 
over  this  deHghtful  land,  and  at  a  very  early  age 
were  allowed  to  take  out  the  pony-chaise,  and  drive 
ourselves  whithersoever  we  liked.  No  anxiety 
seems  to  have  been  felt  about  our  absence,  as  our 
splendid  appetites  were  excellent  timekeepers,  and 
could  be  relied  on  to  bring  us  home  within  a  reason- 
able time.  We  all  of  us  acquired  a  passionate 
liking  for  natural  scenery,  and  a  great  taste  for  in- 
vestigating churches,  farmyards,  and  other  people's 
premises.  How  we  were  tolerated  I  cannot  imagine, 
but  we  seem  to  have  been  considered  quite  nice 
little  boys — the  London  hooligan  was  scarcely 
known — and  therefore  boys  in  general  had  not  a  bad 
reputation.  Our  mother,  of  course,  was  greatly 
occupied  with  household  affairs  and  the  upbring- 
ing of  the  last  new  baby,  who  might  almost  be 
described  as  a  hardy  annual.  Large  families  were 
the  rule,  and  were  considered  a  blessing,  and  not 
even  an  inconvenience. 

My  father   himself  was   a  member   of  a   family 

that  would  be  considered  large  at  the  present  day, 

being    one  of  fourteen — ten   boys  and   four   girls. 

He  was  the  youngest   but   one,  and  came   between 

Octavius  and   Decimus,  and   it  was   a  safe  rise  to 

c 


34  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

pretend  that  his  real  name  was  Nonus.  There 
was  a  Septimus,  Octavius,  and  Decimus.  I 
have  in  my  possession  a  statement  of  his  private 
baptism,  probably  on  account  of  a  suspicion  that 
he  was  not  going  to  live.  In  that  document  his 
names  are  given  as  Hablot  Knight  Nonus  Browne. 
The  Nonus  is  erased  and  underlined,  and  in  an 
official  certificate  of  his  formal  baptism  in  the  Church 
of  St.  Mary,  Lambeth,  21st  December  1815,  the 
name  is  given  as  Hablot  Knight — ^no  Nonus.  The 
officiating  clergyman  was  the  same  on  both  occa- 
sions, the  Rev.  Henry  White,  so  that  we  can  safely 
conclude  that  there  was  an  intention  of  numbering 
him,  which  was  immediately  relinquished. 

Some  friends  of  ours  who  lived  at  the  other  end 
of  the  town  had  eighteen  children.  We  frequently 
spent  the  afternoon  with  them,  to  prevent  them 
feeling  lonely.  As  a  gracious  acknowledgment, 
deputations  made  return  visits  to  us ;  but  I  do  not 
think  the  whole  eighteen  ever  came  at  one  time, 
but  certainly  they  appeared  in  sufficient  numbers 
to  produce  a  shortage  of  chairs. 

Occasionally  the  two  families  made  expeditions, 
accompanied  by  an  extraordinary  number  of  ac- 
quaintances and  female  slaves,  carrying  bows  and 
arrows,  and  provisions  to  an  amount  suitable  appar- 
ently for  a  long  voyage,  but  actually  only  capable 


HOME    LIFE    IN    CROYDON  35 

of  lasting  a  few  hours.  The  ammunition  was  in- 
tended for  the  slaughter  of  squirrels  or  any  small 
birds  that  might  be  about.  I  have  considerable 
satisfaction  in  saying  not  a  single  death  resulted 
in  spite  of  all  our  preparations — we  might  as  well 
have  carried  some  salt  to  put  on  their  tails.  But 
the  best  of  all  our  expeditions  was  when  a  farmer 
would  invite  us  to  assist  in  the  taking  down  of  a 
haystack  and  killing  the  rats.  Then  with  leathern 
gaiters,  or  with  string  wound  round  our  trousers, 
sticks  in  our  hands,  and  our  dogs  in  attendance, 
we  indulged  in  a  slaughter  which  would  have  satis- 
fied savages.  The  female  slaves  did  not  desire 
to  join  this  expedition. 

By  degrees  we  were  more  and  more  brought 
under  the  influence  of  the  ordinary  educational 
people,  beginning  with  the  usual  governess,  and 
ending  with  the  clergyman,  who  took  a  few 
young  gentlemen  before  they  were  sent  off  to 
boarding-school.  Though  we  passed  through 
several  hands  they  all  taught  the  same  subjects, 
in  very  much  the  same  method,  as  if  there  was  a 
well-known  receipt  for  teaching  little  boys  the  rudi- 
ments of  learning.  Latin  was  the  principal  subject, 
beginning  with  delectus  and  passing  on  to  the 
Gallic  War,  and  including  the  syntax  of  the  Eton 
Latin  grammar  committed  to  memory.     We  had  a 


36  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

little  arithmetic,  very  unintelligently  taught,  and  as 
much  geometry  as  is  contained  in  the  first  book 
of  Euclid  ;  history  consisting  of  the  kings  of  Eng- 
land, with  their  dates  and  the  names  of  their  wives  ; 
and  geography,  including  the  names  of  places,  but 
not  a  single  geographical  idea  ;  and  we  learned 
to  recite  certain  stock  pieces  of  English  poetry, 
such  as  "  Hohenlinden  "  and  the  "  Burial  of  Sir  John 
Moore."  We  also  committed  portions  of  the  Scrip- 
tures to  memory,  certain  Psalms,  either  the  Epistle 
or  the  Gospel  for  the  Sunday,  not  forgetting  the 
Collect  for  the  day.  This  exercise  I  consider  to 
have  been  most  valuable  in  giving  us  some  know- 
ledge of  the  English  language,  an  advantage  which 
lasts  throughout  life.  No  sort  of  utilitarian  or 
practical  lesson  can  for  a  moment  be  compared  with 
it.  The  child  is  more  carefully  studied  in  the 
present  day,  but  it  is  doubtful  whether  his  educa- 
tion has  correspondingly  improved. 

From  these  people  we  learnt  something,  but  not 
so  much  as  we  did  from  the  liberty  to  use  a  very 
good  little  library,  which  suited  our  tastes,  as  it 
was  largely  composed  of  illustrated  editions. 

Means  of  illumination  were  poor,  and  in  the  long 
winter  evenings  during  blind-man's  holiday  we  were 
accustomed  to  sit  round  the  fire,  developing  the 
family  circle  from  a  figment  to  a  fact.     Before  dinner 


HOME   LIFE    IN   CROYDON  37 

a  difficult  process  of  illumination  began,  generally 
by  the  appearance  of  a  single  candle,  brought  in  by 
the  maid,  to  serve  as  a  focus.  This  was  followed 
by  heroic  efforts  to  light  the  lamp,  which  had  to  be 
wound  up  like  a  clock.  There  was  no  mineral  oil, 
so  some  variety  of  animal  or  vegetable  origin  had 
to  be  employed,  and  being  of  difficult  inflamma- 
bility, it  often  spluttered  and  smoked,  and  gave 
forth  very  little  light. 

At  one  time  we  had  a  machine,  shaped  like  the 
Duke  of  York's  column,  which  carried  a  three-wick 
candle,  big  enough  for  a  Roman  Catholic  Cathedral, 
and  thrust  upwards  by  a  spiral  spring.  Occa- 
sionally, as  the  wax  became  heated,  the  catch  would 
become  loose,  and  the  candle  would  be  jerked  up- 
wards to  the  ceiling.  Matches  were  called  lucifers, 
and  required  a  good  deal  of  smart  rubbing  to  make 
them  catch  fire.  They  were  tipped  with  sulphur, 
which  had  a  private  little  stage  of  ignition  all  to 
itself,  giving  rise  to  a  good  deal  of  bubbling  and 
a  foul-smelling  vapour.  As  the  slightest  damp 
rendered  them  untrustworthy,  prudent  house- 
keepers, like  so  many  Vestals,  maintained  a  number 
of  constant  flames  during  the  night  for  use  in  case 
of  illness.  Our  bedrooms  were  each  provided  with 
a  rushlight  placed  in  a  shade,  which  was  stationed 
in  a  basin  on  the  floor,  where  it  glistened  away  like 


38  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

a  gigantic  lighthouse  in  a  particularly  small  piece 
of  water/  The  holes  in  the  shade  were  represented 
on  the  walls  by  large  discs  of  light,  which  had  an 
uncanny  movement  in  the  slightest  draught,  and 
caused  me  (and  other  children)  a  vague  terror  only 
one  degree  less  terrible  than  the  darkness.  Child's 
night  lights  were  a  great  improvement,  but  were 
easily  put  out  in  the  efforts  to  light  a  candle 
from  their  tiny  flames,  and  were  therefore  disliked 
by  housemaids. 

My  father  sat  with  us  when  etchings  were  in 
progress,  as  the  glare  from  the  plate  was  unpleasant 
in  artificial  light,  but  if  he  was  designing  or  work- 
ing on  wood,  he  might  come  down  later.  The  con- 
versations were  by  no  means  banal.  My  father 
was  full  of  information  and  a  good  talker,  and  his 
simplicity  of  character  made  him  put  himself  in- 
stinctively on  our  level.  We  discussed  books  and 
pictures,  historical  events  from  Alfred  the  Great 
to  the  flight  of  Louis  Philippe.  Nelson  and 
Napoleon,  and  the  almighty  Duke  of  Wellington, 
were  viewed  under  strange  and  unfamiliar  lights. 
Our  science  had  the  merits  of  originality,  and  owed 
nothing  to  previous  investigators.  We  had  an 
extensive  and  peculiar  knowledge  of  savages,  which 
could  be  crystallised  into  a  dramatic  form  from  such 

^  Pickwick. 


HOME    LIFE    IN   CROYDON  39 

excellent  books  as  The  Last  of  the  Mohicans,  OmoOy 
Typee,  and  Bruce's  Travels.  We  were  also  greatly 
interested  in  the  lives  of  great  painters,  which  the 
Governor  read  to  us  with  much  spirit  from  a  popular 
book.  This  concerned  itself  with  the  old  masters, 
and  was  more  to  be  depended  on  for  anecdotes 
of  their  lives  than  criticisms  of  their  works.  He 
also  read  us  extracts  from  Froissart's  Chronicles 
(translation),  and  entertained  us  greatly  by  showing 
us  the  armour  and  dresses  of  the  Middle  Ages  from 
coloured  books  of  costume,  which  we  honestly  be- 
lieved were  the  finest  books  in  the  world,  and  too 
valuable  to  be  handled  unless  under  supervision. 
In  the  same  way  we  made  acquaintance  with  the 
Arabian  Nights,  and  insensibly  gained  a  knowledge 
of  the  glitter  and  splendour  of  Oriental  life.  Thus 
at  an  early  age  we  learned  to  look  critically  upon 
pictures  and  illustrations,  and  not  merely  regard 
them  as  representations  of  scenes.  We  learnt  to 
separate  the  wheat  from  the  tares  according  to  our 
lights.  The  Governor  would  explain  his  own  pre- 
ferences, which  we  could  follow  or  not  as  we  pleased. 
His  thoughts  were  entirely  original.  He  had  no 
idea  of  adopting  anybody's  opinion  second-hand,  but 
did  not  suppose  that  his  own  was  of  the  slightest 
value  or  interest  to  anybody  else.  In  this  he  differed 
from  the  majority  of  people,  who  seem  to  suppose 


40  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

that  their  opinion  matters  a  great  deal  and  other 
people's  nothing  at  all  ;  whereas  the  prosperity 
of  a  criticism  like  a  jest's  lies  in  the  ear,  and  the 
listener's  mental  capacity  is  as  important  as  the 
speaker's.  No  opinion  is  worth  uttering  if  it  fall 
on  an  unreceptive  mind.  The  only  criticism  of 
value  is  one  appreciable  by  the  listener. 

For  instance,  one  night  a  foreigner  was  seated 
next  to  my  Aunt  Kate  at  dinner,  and  he  happened 
to  mention  the  works  of  Van  Eyck.  My  aunt,  who 
was  a  precise  lady,  said,  "  I  suppose  you  mean  Van 
Dyck."  "  No,  no,"  he  said,  "  I  mean  Van  Eyck." 
"  Was  he  a  great  painter  ?  "  "Of  the  greatest — 
he  paint  every  'air  on  the  legs  " — a  just  remark, 
but  hardly  a  convincing  argument  for  a  maiden 
lady. 

From  an  early  age  we  were  accustomed  to  go  to 
picture  galleries.  I  cannot  remember  the  time 
when  we  did  not  go  to  the  National  Collection, 
then  housed  partly  in  Trafalgar  Square  and  partly 
in  Marlborough  House.  We  were  given  shillings 
to  go  to  the  Water  Colours,  with  strict  injunctions 
to  look  out  for  the  works  of  David  Cox. 

Needless  to  say,  Browne  made  very  few  acquaint- 
ances amongst  the  neighbours  ;  any  remnant  of 
sociability  he  had  left  in  him  was  effectively  dis- 
sipated by  the  evident  wish  to  treat  him  as  a  lion. 


HOME    LIFE    IN    CROYDON  41 

The  neighbourhood  thought  it  too  good  a  chance 
to  be  lost.  Ladies  would  occasionally  stop  us  on 
the  road,  and  ask  us  whether  the  Governor  did  not 
use  us  for  models,  and  other  questions  of  an  em- 
barrassing nature.  These  symptoms  of  a  popular 
interest  were  more  than  sufficient  to  drive  him  to 
take  refuge  in  the  shell  of  his  own  house,  his  innate 
dislike  to  publicity  was  strengthened,  and  his  natural 
shyness  increased. 

However,  he  made  one  firm  and  valued  friend 
in  the  person  of  Dr.  Westall,  who  was  summoned 
as  a  doctor  and  remained  as  a  friend.  He  was  a 
tall,  good-looking  man,  with  a  healthy  pink  com- 
plexion, white  hair,  and  a  cheerful  expression.  He 
always  dressed  in  black,  with  a  white  choker  wound 
two  or  three  times  round  his  neck,  and  was  invariably 
spick  and  span  even  if  he  had  been  up  all  night.  He 
had  a  large  practice,  including  several  local  celeb- 
rities, but  he  was  very  glad  to  have  the  opportunity 
of  adding  the  Hablot  Browne  family  to  his  list. 
As  he  was  a  doctor,  he  could  penetrate  to  any  room 
in  the  house  without  giving  offence,  and  he  was 
not  long  in  making  his  way  into  the  studio.  How 
could  he  be  repulsed  when  he  brought  tidings  of 
wife  and  child  ?  Being  accustomed  to  put  people 
at  their  ease,  he  soon  overcame  the  Governor's 
reserve,    and   made    frequent   visits,    and    found    a 


42  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

welcome.  He  took  a  great  interest  in  the  work, 
and  especially  admired  the  water-colour  sketches, 
of  which  in  course  of  time  he  acquired  several. 
He  was  very  much  interested  and  not  a  little  shocked 
at  my  father's  carelessness  in  business  affairs,  and 
if  a  chronic  condition  could  have  been  remedied  by 
a  few  doses  of  good  advice,  it  is  probable  that  our 
income  would  have  been  considerably  increased. 

My  father  enjoyed  his  society  very  much.  His 
was  the  only  house  I  remember  which  we  would 
visit  without  a  special  or  repeated  invitation.  We 
made  the  acquaintance  of  the  family  through  the 
only  son,  who  was  our  senior,  and  greatly  respected 
as  an  authority  on  school  games.  Through  him 
we  came  to  know  the  four  daughters,  to  whom  we 
became  greatly  attached. 

It  is  the  fashion  in  our  times  to  suppose  that 
the  early  Victorian  girl  was  kept  under  lock  and  key, 
but  my  experience  leads  me  to  think  that  in  the 
country  there  was  fully  as  much  liberty  as  there  is 
now.  We  walked  or  rambled  about  when  and  where 
we  pleased,  with  no  weightier  obligation  on  us  than 
bringing  the  girls  back  in  time  for  meals.  It  was  a 
free  and  happy  existence. 

Unfortunately  the  Westall  boy  was  attacked  by 
rheumatic  fever,  and  died  of  heart  disease,  to  the 
great  grief  of  the  two  families.    As  they  had  no 


HOME    LIFE    IN    CROYDON  43 

sufficient  memorial  of  him,  Westall  begged  my 
father  to  do  a  portrait.  In  order  to  accompHsh 
this,  I  remember,  he  shut  himself  up  for  some  days, 
and  refused  to  see  any  of  his  family,  lest  he  should 
have  wrong  impressions  on  his  mind,  and  painted 
a  life-size  portrait,  which  had  considerable  merit, 
and  was  considered  an  excellent  likeness  by  the 
poor  lad's  friends,  and  supposed  to  have  no  draw- 
back beyond  a  certain  sadness  of  expression. 

Dr.  Westall  was  always  anxious  my  father  should 
have  some  permanent  regular  source  of  income,  and 
at  one  time  used  his  influence  to  obtain  for  him 
the  post  of  drawing-master  in  the  East  India  Com- 
pany's military  college  at  Addiscombe.  The  Gover- 
nor consented  to  stand,  and  I  cannot  sometimes 
help  smiling  at  the  idea  of  the  delineator  of  Micawber 
instructing  future  generals  in  the  drawing  of  for- 
tresses or  the  contour  of  hills.  I  believe  Mr.  Callow 
was  the  successful  candidate,  and  the  better  man 
for  the  post. 

One  result  of  my  father's  move  to  Croydon  was 
to  separate  him  from  his  artistic  friends,  and  to 
deprive  him  of  the  valuable  influences  by  which  he 
was  surrounded.  He  was  definitely  out  of  town 
and  in  the  country  ;  he  could  only  be  visited  by 
dint  of  special  eflFort.  He  might  have  gone,  and 
perhaps   may   occasionally   have   gone,   and  visited 


44  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

some  of  his  old  acquaintances  on  his  own  account, 
but  ten  miles  to  the  early  Victorians  seemed  an 
almost  unbridgeable  chasm,  and  indeed  would  be 
now  as  far  as  regards  keeping  up  acquaintance. 

Means  of  communication  were  poor  and  inade- 
quate, but  nearly  every  Sunday,  and  sometimes  on 
week-days,  my  father's  partner,  Robert  Young,  paid 
us  a  visit.  He  was  a  good-looking  man  of  medium 
height,  broad  chested,  and  would  have  been  power- 
ful but  for  a  wasted  leg,  so  that  he  had  to  walk, 
and  could  only  walk,  by  the  aid  of  a  stick.  He  was 
at  this  time  at  Furnival's  Inn,  carrying  out  two 
lines  of  business  for  the  benefit  of  the  partners, 
one  the  biting  in  and  repairing  of  Browne's  etchings, 
the  other  the  production  of  line  engravings  suitable 
for  book  illustrations  or  for  framing.  For  these 
latter  Browne  often  provided  original  drawings,  but 
were  sometimes  taken  from  existing  pictures.  The 
establishment  at  Furnival's  Inn  was  of  the  same 
nature  as  Finden's,  but  on  a  smaller  scale.  In  the 
family  Young  was  known  as  Uncle  Bob,  and  even 
now  I  have  difficulty  in  remembering  his  proper 
name,  and  that  he  was  not  a  relation.  He  did  not 
concern  himself  much  with  the  arts  generally,  but 
only  as  connected  with  the  business  and  the  process 
of  engraving.  He  was  a  cheerful,  well-read  man, 
and  had  the  most  sincere  attachment  to  my  father, 


LABOUR    I\    VAIN. 

Line  cngmvinn  by  Robert  Younq  from  an  oil-painting  by  Hablot  K.  Browne 
published  for  joint  benefit.      KcJiiccd  from  io\  in.  x  8^  in. 


HOME   LIFE   IN    CROYDON  45 

and  a  profound  admiration  for  his  intellect  and 
skill.     He  died  only  a  few  years  ago. 

He  introduced  us  to  many  books  which  after- 
wards became  famous.  Occasionally  he  brought 
down  small  parties  of  men,  who  often  stopped  to 
dinner.  But  the  persons  whom  we  saw  were  not 
painters,  but  literary  men,  authors  and  publishers, 
and  they  mostly  came  to  talk  over  their  illustrations 
and  to  hurry  things  up.  They  exercised  a  deleterious 
influence  over  my  father's  artistic  development,  for 
they  absorbed  his  attention  and  dissipated  his  energy. 

Of  those  who  visited  I  can  remember  best  among 
many  others  Mark  Lemon,  who  must  in  the 
first  instance  have  asked  as  a  matter  of  polite- 
ness to  see  the  family,  for  we  all  came  down 
to  the  little  drawing-room  on  show.  He  made 
himself  most  agreeable  to  us  children,  con- 
trasting in  this  respect  with  some  of  the  other 
authors.  He  was  immensely  stout,  and  being  very 
witty,  was  forthwith  dubbed  Sir  John  Falstaff. 
So  far  from  being  offended,  he  was  delighted  with 
what  must  have  been  to  him  a  familiar  jest,  but  it 
fell  upon  a  prepared  mind,  and  some  time  after- 
wards he  started  an  entertainment  and  enacted  the 
part  of  Falstaff  himself.  Except  that  he  was  the 
great  editor  of  Punchy  his  literary  fame  is  hardly 
remembered. 


46  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

In  more  senses  than  one  he  entirely  overshadowed 
Dickens,  who  apparently  was  not  much  interested 
in  us  personally,  and  whom  we  only  saw  in  un- 
certain glimpses  by  no  means  free  from  an  uncom- 
fortable sense  of  awe.  He  appeared  to  us  over- 
whelming, very  splendid  as  to  his  clothing,  and 
rather  unapproachable.  Reflection  in  after  years  has 
convinced  me  that  our  impression  was  erroneous. 
What  we  saw  and  felt  was  the  contrast  between  our- 
selves and  a  being  of  superhuman  energy  and  vigour 
of  expression.  Added  to  that,  it  is  quite  certain  that 
he  came  about  business,  and  on  most  occasions  we 
were  bundled  out  of  the  way.  Of  course  the  names 
of  the  leading  writers  were  more  familiar  in  our 
mouths  than  household  words,  and  we  took  them 
for  granted,  as  we  did  the  Queen  and  Prince  Albert. 

It  might  be  supposed  that  the  members  of  Browne *s 
family  might  have  played  some  part  in  his  develop- 
ment. There  were  several  living  within  easy  dis- 
tance. His  brother  Octavius  lived  at  Brixton,  and 
as  they  both  had  pony-chaises,  there  was  a  good 
deal  of  intercourse  between  the  two  families.  Oc- 
tavius went  out  to  Melbourne  as  agent  for  a  business 
firm,  and  happening  to  arrive  at  the  beginning  of 
the  gold  fever,  he  made  a  large  fortune,  and  retired 
to  Devonshire.  But  he  had  no  sympathy  with  the 
arts. 


HOME    LIFE    IN    CROYDON  47 

We  used  occasionally  to  drive  over  to  see  Great- 
Uncle  Moxon,  who  had  a  nice  place  at  Twickenham, 
and  whom  we  regarded  as  a  very  wonderful  old 
gentleman  ;  what  his  real  claims  to  admiration  were 
I  really  do  not  know,  but  he  was  a  great  centre  in 
the  family.  Our  youthful  admiration  rested  on  the 
facts  that  he  had  an  apple-room,  a  deep  fish-pond, 
two  turnspit  dogs,  and  a  dinner-bell  that  rang  in  the 
grounds.  A  delightful  custom  existed  at  his  house. 
Before  dinner  a  large  block  of  cannel  coal  was  put 
on  the  drawing-room  fire  to  be  warmed  through, 
and  when  we  left  the  table  was  broken  up  with  a 
poker,  and  gave  rise  to  a  most  cheerful  blaze,  which 
excited  the  admiration  of  all  beholders. 

His  son  John,  my  father's  cousin,  was  bound- 
lessly kind  to  me.  He  lived  at  Regent's  Park,  and 
for  some  years  I  passed  the  Christmas  holidays  at 
his  house,  in  companionship  with  his  children, 
two  sons  and  two  daughters.  This,  besides  soften- 
ing my  manners  and  not  allowing  them  to  grow 
brutal,  carried  with  it  a  permanent  free  admission 
to  the  Zoological  Gardens  and  to  the  Polytechnic, 
an  institution  for  the  purpose  of  popularising  science. 

The  entertainment  here  varied  from  the  sub- 
aqueous wonders  of  a  diving-bell  and  the  electric 
eel,  to  the  marvels  of  dissolving  views,  and  lectures 
illustrated  with  dazzling  experiments  by  Professor 


48  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

Pepper,  a  gentleman  who  afterwards  became  cele- 
brated as  being  the  only  man  who  had  a  ghost  who 
walked  in  his  lifetime. 

It  was  here,  at  Hanover  Terrace,  that  I  saw  the 
only  Dickens  character  that  I  ever  beheld  quite 
complete  with  my  own  eyes.  She  was  a  dwarf, 
and  the  etching  was  remarkably  like  her,  though  I 
do  not  think  my  father  ever  saw  her.  In  the  book 
she  was  Miss  Mowcher,  in  real  life  she  was  a  married 
lady,  and  a  professional  chiropodist  and  manicurist. 
She  was  driven  on  her  professional  rounds  in  a  very 
narrow  little  brougham  of  a  kind  known  as  a  pill- 
box, because  it  was  patronised  by  doctors.  I  am 
sorry  to  say  I  contributed  to  a  slight  accident  which 
she  suffered  when  she  was  visiting  professionally  at 
Regent's  Park.  I  had  been  concerned  with  one  or 
two  friends  in  an  assault  and  repulse  on  the  stairs 
with  peashooters  ;  as  the  little  creature  came  down 
the  stairs,  she  slipped  on  some  of  the  peas,  and  sat 
down  very  suddenly  and  alarmingly.  We  restored 
her  with  a  glass  of  sherry,  and  she  sat  on  the  lowest 
stair  rocking  her  body  to  and  fro,  saying  as  a  sort 
of  refrain  between  the  sips,  "  You  see  the  body  is 
so  long,  and  the  legs  so  short,  and  stairs  are  difficult," 
all  quite  in  the  genuine  Dickens  manner. 

Miss  Mowcher  dwelt  within  a  stone's-throw  of 
No.    I    Devonshire  Terrace,  where   Dickens   lived 


HOME   LIFE    IN   CROYDON  49 

for  some  years,  and  he  must  have  known  her  well 
by  sight.  Generally  his  characters  owe  a  good  deal 
to  the  imagination,  and  are  compounded  of  more 
than  one  model,  but  in  this  case  the  sketch,  as  far 
as  externals  go,  was  a  veritable  portrait. 

When  we  drove  over  to  visit  Great-Uncle  Moxon, 
it  was  often  to  pay  our  respects  to  my  grandmother, 
who  frequently  stayed  there.  She  used  also  to  come 
out  and  stay  at  West  Barns  Park,  a  farm  near 
Merton,  which  was  within  an  easy  drive  of  us,  where 
we  also  visited.  We  considered  it  an  earthly  para- 
dise, and  in  addition  to  sundry  barns  and  haystacks 
to  play  amongst,  there  was  a  pond  sufficiently  large 
to  carry  a  real  rowing-boat. 

I  was  once  so  happy  as  to  be  weather-bound  in  the 
farm  by  a  flood,  and  passed  some  three  or  four  days 
tinged  with  romance.  My  elders,  I  need  hardly  say, 
were  not  only  very  uncomfortable,  but  suffered  from 
the  destruction  of  their  property. 

The  farm  belonged  to  Mrs.  Rayne  and  her  sons, 
who  I  fancy  often  experienced  the  bad  times  which 
were  frequent  with  farmers.  Miss  Rayne  married 
a  son  of  the  painter  Robert  Hay  don.  In  passing 
lately  along  the  line  going  south  I  have  noticed  a 
station  called  Rayne 's  Park,  and  I  am  happy  to  sup- 
pose that  the  family  have  found  bricks  and  mortar 

more  profitable  than  hay-making. 

D 


50  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

If  the  grandmother  had  confined  her  invitation 
to  the  country  we  should  have  looked  back  on  our 
visits  to  her  with  unmixed  pleasure,  but  she  habitu- 
ally lived  in  Bedford  Place,  Bloomsbury,  a  district 
which  became  afterwards  much  identified  with 
Dickens.  It  was  separated  from  the  adjoining  dis- 
trict as  trenchantly  as  if  it  had  been  in  a  ring  fence. 
It  is  very  well  described  in  Vanity  Fair,  The 
inhabitants  were  eminently  respectable,  and  mostly 
dull.  They  went  very  little  afield  for  their  shops 
or  amusements.  The  lawyers,  who  were  of  pro- 
digious numbers,  went  to  their  business  in  Bedford 
Row,  or  their  chambers  in  Inns  of  Court,  and  business 
men  went  to  their  occupations  in  the  City  by  the 
buses,  which  plied  down  Holborn  or  the  New  Road. 
The  great  archway  of  the  Euston  Station  was  a 
recent  intrusion.  The  district  was  so  little  separated 
from  the  country,  that  the  smell  of  hay  could  be 
distinctly  perceived  with  a  northern  wind  blowing 
over  Hampstead,  though  I  never  heard  of  a  Master 
in  Chancery  having  hay  fever. 

I  suffered  a  good  deal  from  my  grandmother's 
pet  parson,  the  Hon.  and  Rev.  Montague  Villiers, 
Rector  of  St.  George,  Bloomsbury.  The  church, 
besides  having  a  classic  portico,  has  a  queer  steeple, 
composed  of  four  pyramidal  flights  of  steps,  sur- 
mounted by  what  appears  to  be  a  statue  of  no  less 


HOME   LIFE    IN    CROYDON  51 

eminent  a  Christian  than  one  of  the  Georges  in 
a  toga.  This  steeple  was  popularly  said  to  be  the 
steps  to  a  bishopric,  and  so  it  was,  for  Villiers  was 
promoted  first  to  Carlisle,  and  subsequently  to 
Durham.  In  the  pulpit  I  do  not  suppose  he  was 
duller  than  anyone  else,  but  I  was  taken  to  hear  him 
on  compulsion,  and  the  whole  service  was  oppressively 
tedious  and  long.  But  I  also  suffered  from  him  in 
private  life.  He  seemed  to  know  when  I  was  on  a 
visit  by  some  sort  of  sixth  sense,  and  though  he 
was  a  most  courtly,  affable  man,  I  used  to  think  he 
was  far  too  unctuous.  He  invariably  improved  the 
occasion,  and  he  had  the  air  of  being  desirous  of 
leaving  the  impression  that  he  had  a  peculiarly  good 
receipt  for  living  a  pious  and  godly  life. 

I  have  been  much  interested  lately,  in  reading 
Mrs.  Earle's  Memoirs  and  Memories,  to  learn  that 
he  wrote  letters  to  members  of  his  family  (for  he 
was  related  to  her)  as  if  they  shamefully  neglected 
their  opportunities,  though  from  what  I  can  gather 
from  the  correspondence  generally,  they  were  as 
unaffectedly  good  as  people  can  well  be.  But  it 
was  the  fashion  in  those  days  for  people  to  call 
themselves  professing  Christians,  and  openly  draw 
attention  to  their  scheme  of  life. 

He  was  not  a  learned  man,  but  belonged  to  a  class 
called  Lord  Shaftesbury's  bishops.    There  used  to 


52  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

be  a  floating  story  that  he  was  once  approached 
by  a  curate  anxious  for  an  explanation  of  a  tough 
passage  in  the  Greek  Testament.  The  Bishop  had 
not  a  working  famiharity  with  the  work,  and  is  re- 
ported to  have  taken  up  a  copy  of  the  Authorised 
Version,  saying,  "  Let  us  consuh  the  divine  original." 
He  had  a  son-in-law,  and  the  patronage  of  a  fat 
living  fell  into  his  hands.  What  could  be  more 
natural  than  to  unite  the  two  }  To  have  a  bishop's 
son-in-law  for  a  rector  would  be  undoubtedly  good 
for  the  parish,  and  the  parish  good  for  the  son-in-law. 
Unfortunately  the  beneficiary's  name  was  Cheese, 
and  immediately  after  the  appointment,  while  the 
cry  of  nepotism  was  in  the  air.  Punch  had  a  cartoon 
of  a  stout  ecclesiastic  pouring  port  into  a  Stilton, 
and  saying,  "  This  cheese  wants  a  little  ripening." 
An  enormous  number  of  copies  were  sold  in  the 
parish.  If  a  stranger  went  into  the  local  booksellers' 
shop,  "  Swale  &  Wilson,"  almost  before  the  customer 
could  get  the  words  out  of  his  mouth,  one  or  other  of 
them  would  say,  "  I  know.  Sir,  the  picture  of  the 
late  Rector." 

Some  time  after  the  foregoing  account  was 
written  I  accidentally  came  upon  a  letter  from 
Dickens  saying,  "  I  took  a  young  lady  unknown 
down  to  dinner,  and  talking  to  her  about  the 
Bishop  of  Durham's  nepotism  in  the  matter  of  Mr. 


HOME    LIFE    IN    CROYDON  53 

Cheese,  I  found  she  was  Mrs.  Cheese  "  (28th  April 
1861). 

My  grandmother  evidently  had  considerable  affec- 
tion for  my  father,  and  showed  a  grandmotherly 
interest  in  us,  evinced  by  lessons  in  deportment 
and  manners,  but  I  never  remember  her  showing 
the  slightest  interest  in  my  father's  profession.  I 
am  sure  she  never  read  a  line  of  Dickens,  and  I 
am  doubtful  whether,  with  the  exception  of  such 
pictures  as  hung  on  our  walls,  she  ever  cast  an  eye 
on  any  of  his  works  in  her  life.  The  rest  of  the 
relations  were  equally  indifferent,  with  the  sole 
exception  of  Mr.  Elhanan  Bicknell. 

Naturally  there  ought  to  be  a  considerable  number 
of  letters  from  authors,  publishers,  and  engravers 
about  illustrations,  but  though  it  seems  scarcely 
credible,  it  is  the  veritable  fact  that  when  he  was 
leaving  Croydon,  Hablot  Browne  made  a  bonfire 
of  the  accumulated  correspondence  of  many  years. 
Among  these  manuscripts  were  hundreds  of  sketches, 
either  illustrations  to  books,  or  designs  for  works  of 
his  own.  If  they  had  been  merely  taken  haphazard 
and  bound  they  would  have  formed  several  very 
interesting  volumes.  But  incredible  as  this  may 
seem,  it  is  still  more  astonishing  to  learn  that  Dickens, 
with  less  excuse,  did  the  same  thing.  In  i860,  at 
Gad's  Hill,  he  writes  : — 


54  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

"  Yesterday  I  burnt,  in  the  field  at  Gad's  Hill, 
the  accumulated  letters  and  papers  of  twenty  years. 
They  sent  up  a  smoke  like  the  genie  when  he  got 
out  of  the  casket  on  the  seashore  ;  and  as  it  was 
an  exquisite  day  when  I  began,  and  rained  very 
heavily  when  I  finished,  I  suspect  my  correspond- 
ence of  having  overcast  the  face  of  the  heavens." 


U'iiti?-co/oiir  circa /SjO.     Kcdincii/ioiii  i^\  in.   >.   \\hiii. 


CHAPTER  IV 

MR.    BICKNELL   AND    HIS    FRIENDS 

Mr.  Elhanan  Bicknell  was  a  noteworthy  man  who 
became  related  to  Browne  by  his  marriage  to  my 
Aunt  Lucinda  as  his  second  wife.  He  was  the  son 
of  a  schoolmaster  at  Dulwich,  then  a  delightful  little 
town  on  the  borders  of  Kent  and  Surrey.  He  began 
life  as  an  usher  in  his  father's  school,  but  must  have 
exhibited  some  indications  of  financial  ability,  for 
two  friends  who  were  managing,  or  mismanaging,  a 
business,  invited  him  to  join  them  for  the  purpose 
of  improving  affairs.  He  fully  justified  their  choice, 
turned  the  business  into  a  prosperous  concern,  and 
made  a  huge  fortune. 

I  was  about  the  age  of  his  youngest  son.  When 
I  first  remember  him  he  was  living,  simply  indeed, 
but  in  considerable  splendour,  at  Heme  Hill.  My 
aunt  was  a  notable  woman,  and  managed  her  house- 
hold affairs  with  a  skill  truly  early  Victorian.  She 
had  that  art  of  organising  which  comes  from 
natural  capability,  and  which  made  the  manage- 
ment of  a  big  house  and  wealth  no  more  difficult 

99 


56  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

to  her  than  a  cottage  home  would  have  been,  and 
she  always  seemed  to  have  leisure  for  various 
pursuits. 

The  house  had  originally  been  a  medium-sized  one. 
My  uncle  had  built  a  wing  at  each  end  larger  than 
the  original  structure,  so  that  on  the  ground  floor, 
among  others,  there  were  three  large  rooms,  entirely 
given  up  to  the  display  of  pictures,  which  constituted 
the  splendour  of  the  place.  In  the  middle  was  the 
old  drawing-room.  This  was  a  low  room,  which, 
for  the  sake  of  protection  against  damp,  had  been 
entirely  lined  with  mahogany.  The  wood  was  not 
apparent,  as  it  was  covered  over  with  a  sort  of 
rococo  panelling  in  white  and  gold,  according  to  the 
prevailing  taste  of  the  time  in  drawing-room  decora- 
tions. The  pictures  in  this  room  were  all  water- 
colours,  and  were  not  hung  in  the  usual  manner, 
but  inset,  the  gilded  mouldings  serving  as  frames, 
and  the  water-colours  serving  as  decorative  panels. 
Turner's  "  Rivers  of  France,"  if  I  remember  rightly, 
served  as  decoration  of  the  doors.  The  effect  was 
altogether  admirable,  and  the  individual  pictures, 
when  looked  into,  were  found  to  be  works  of  the 
most  distinguished  men  of  the  time. 

I  have  often  wondered  since,  what  provision  was 
made  for  the  removal  of  these  precious  objects  in 
case  of  fire. 


MR.    BICKNELL   AND    HIS    FRIENDS   57 

The  dining-room  and  the  big  drawing-room  were 
devoted  to  oils  ;  in  the  latter  were  a  considerable 
number  of  Turners.  Besides  the  pictures  on  the 
walls,  Mr.  Bicknell  had  stowed  away  others  of  equal 
importance. 

I  shall  never  forget  the  thrill  I  experienced  when 
he  produced  from  a  portfolio  Turner's  four  York- 
shire drawings  which  had  never  been  exposed.  At 
the  sale  after  his  death,  the  Marquis  of  Hertford 
sent  over  an  agent  with  strict  orders  to  buy  these 
four  drawings  regardless  of  cost.  This  was  un- 
known at  the  time,  or  there  might  have  been 
some  very  spirited  bidding,  but  they  were  bought 
in  fair  competition,  and  they  now  hang  as 
part  of  the  Wallace  Collection  in  Hertford 
House. 

There  is  nothing  remarkable  in  a  rich  man  making 
a  collection  of  pictures,  but  it  was  not  so  common 
in  the  early  Victorian  days,  and  this  was  done  entirely 
at  first  hand,  on  his  own  judgment,  and  without 
the  aid  or  intervention  of  dealers.  He  had  a  most 
extensive  knowledge  of  the  works  of  contemporary 
English  painters,  and  he  must  have  had  a  shrewd 
idea  of  their  pecuniary  value  and  prospects,  as  the 
collection  sold  for  about  three  times  its  original 
cost,  fetching  something  about  eighty  thousand 
pounds.    The  sale  made  a  great  stir.     There  were 


58  PHIZ  AND    DICKENS 

122  oils,  including  ten  important  Turners,  and  270 
water-colours/  ' 

Among  other  interesting  works  there  hung  in 
the  drawing-room  a  pencil  sketch  of  Turner.  Ac- 
cording to  my  recollection  it  represented  him  as 
a  squat  man  dressed  in  a  very  ill-fitting  kind  of 
frockcoat,  and  holding  a  cup  and  saucer  in  one  hand. 
The  preliminary  sketch  was  made  by  Landseer  at 
a  party  at  Heme  Hill  for  the  assistance  of  Count 
D'Orsay,   who   was   accustomed   to   take   portraits 

^  The  Oil  Paintings  by  Turner  included — 
Antwerp :  Van  Goyen  looking  out  for  a  subject. 
Helvoetsluys  :  The  City  of  Utrecht ;  64  going  to  Sea. 
Ivy  Bridge,  Devonshire. 
Wreckers  :  Coast  of  Northumberland;  Steamboat  assisting  Ship  off  the 

Shore. 
Calder  Bridge,  Cumberland. 
Venice :  The  Campo  Santo. 
Venice :  The  Giudecca,  Santa  Maria  della  Salute,  and  San  Giorgio 

Maggiore. 
Ehrenbreitstein. 
Port  Ruysdael. 
Palestrina. 

The  Water-Colours  included — 
The  Himalaya  Mountains. 
The  Rhigi. 

The  Castle  Elz  near  Coblentz. 
Rouen :  Chateau  Gaillard. 
Lake  of  Lucerne. 

The  Four  Yorkshire  Drawings. 

1.  Scarborough  Castle. 

2.  Mowbray  Lodge,  Ripon. 

3.  The  Moor :  Grouse  Shooting  (dogs  painted  by  Stubbs). 

4.  Woodcock  Shooting. 


MR.  BICKNELL   AND    HIS    FRIENDS    59 

of  celebrities  and  publish  them.  The  Count's 
finished  drawing  of  Turner  was  afterwards  litho- 
graphed and  sold  in  the  usual  manner. 

Mr.  Bicknell  was,  however,  restricted  in  his  ap- 
preciation of  art,  and  only  cared  for  modern  work. 
On  returning  from  an  extensive  tour  in  Italy,  under- 
taken for  the  purpose  of  seeing  works  of  art,  I  re- 
member hearing  him  say  he  had  not  seen  a  picture 
he  would  give  a  damn  for. 

In  appearance  he  was  a  biggish  man,  with  a  florid 
complexion  and  a  rather  thick  utterance,  which  in 
his  children  became  converted  into  an  extreme 
difficulty  with  the  letter  "  r  ".  In  order  to  improve 
their  speech  some  of  them,  at  all  events,  were 
taught  elocution  by  a  distinguished  actor,  Alfred 
Wigan.  Whether  it  was  owing  to  his  efforts,  or 
some  other  reason,  the  difficulty  disappeared  as 
they  attained  adult  age. 

There  were  seven  children,  all  above  the  average 
in  personal  appearance  and  intelligence.  The  eldest 
daughter,  Mrs.  Berry,  was  handsome,  a  large  woman, 
with  splendid  physique,  regular  features,  and  fine 
colouring,  altogether  a  very  striking  personage. 
Once  she  had  to  appear  in  a  county  court  in  con- 
sequence of  repudiating  some  claim.  The  plaintiff, 
in  course  of  explaining  the  hardness  of  his  treatment, 
described  how  he  had  actually  applied  at  the  house, 


6o  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

and  been  sent  empty  away.  "  Did  you  see  Mrs. 
Berry  herself  ?  "  said  the  Judge.  *'  I  cannot  re- 
member," said  the  plaintiff.  "  What  ?  "  said  the 
Judge.  "  You  have  seen  Mrs.  Berry  in  the  witness 
box,  and  you  cannot  remember  whether  you  have 
seen  her  before  !  " 

The  eldest  son  by  the  second  wife,  Hermann, 
had  a  brilliant  and  versatile  intellect,  but  probably 
on  account  of  having  command  of  too  much  money 
did  not  possess  sufficient  stability  to  keep  for  long  in 
one  groove.  He  began  as  surgeon  in  the  IndianArmy, 
but  as  regimental  doctoring  was  not  to  his  taste  he 
soon  gave  it  up,  and  took  to  travelling  in  Cashmere 
and  other  unfrequented  parts  of  the  East.  His 
great  achievement,  known  only  to  a  few,  was  the 
pilgrimage  to  Mecca.  The  accomplishment  of  this 
task  required  enormous  patience  and  perseverance. 
He  was  obliged  to  learn  a  great  number  of  details, 
and  to  transform  himself  entirely  from  a  European 
into  an  Oriental.  He  even  underwent  a  painful 
surgical  operation  which  necessitated  some  weeks 
in  the  Suez  hospital,  and  delayed  the  pilgrimage  a 
whole  year.  In  spite  of  all  his  careful  preparations 
for  concealing  his  heretical  identity  one  little  lapse 
nearly  cost  him  his  life,  but  his  dragoman  had  the 
wit  to  say  that  he  was  only  acting  as  the  orthodox 
in  Cashmere  did.     However,  he  remains  one  of  the 


MR.   BICKNELL   AND    HIS    FRIENDS    6i 

very  few  Christians  who  succeeded  in  entering 
Mecca,  and  coming  back  again.  He  meant  to  write 
a  full  account  of  his  adventures,  but  he  was  un- 
fortunately prevented  doing  so  by  his  death.  A 
short  statement  of  the  facts  appeared  in  The  Times 
of  August  1862.  In  May  1869  he  succeeded  in 
entering,  in  disguise,  the  shrine  of  Fatima  in  the 
sacred  mosque  of  Kum,  which,  it  is  believed,  had 
been  seen  only  once  before  (in  1821)  by  a  Christian. 

The  second  son,  Sidney,  lived  as  a  man  of  means, 
and  though  he  was  for  a  short  time  in  the  Army, 
he  followed  no  profession,  but  was  an  adventurous 
traveller  in  many  unfrequented  parts.  He  entered 
Naples  with  Garibaldi,  and  wrote  a  book  on  the 
events  of  the  campaign.  He  was  greatly  interested 
in  genealogy,  and  occupied  himself  in  compiling 
an  account  of  the  lives  and  deaths  of  the  members 
of  three  families,  viz.  the  Bicknells,  the  Brownes, 
and  the  Wildes  (Mrs.  Sidney  Bicknell).  To  ac- 
complish this  task  he  spent  a  considerable  sum  of 
money,  and  travelled  to  many  places  to  verify  facts 
from  registers,  tombstones,  and  other  records.  He 
was  greatly  interested  in  my  discovery  of  the  name 
Hablot  in  Auxerre,  and  would  certainly  have  jour- 
neyed there  if  he  had  lived. 

In  spite  of  the  little  encouragement  he  received 
he  always  kept  in  touch  with  my  father,  and  in 


62  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

speaking  of  his  early  days,  he  described  him  as  a 
handsome  man,  and  repeatedly  impressed  the  fact 
on  me.  My  memory  does  not  run  to  that — I  do  not 
know  that  it  ever  crossed  my  mind  to  consider 
whether  he  was  good-looking  or  not.  I  saw  my 
cousin  for  the  last  time  a  few  weeks  before  his 
death  in  the  autumn  of  191 1. 

The  youngest  son,  Clarence,  has  lived  for  many 
years  in  the  Riviera.  He  has  distinguished  himself, 
I  believe,  in  botany,  and  published  a  work  on  the 
flora  of  his  district.  He  is  an  ardent  propagandist 
of  Esperanto. 

The  house  at  Heme  Hill  was  a  delightful  one  at 
which  to  visit,  not  only  on  account  of  the  profusion 
and  excellence  of  its  art  treasures,  but  from  the  cer- 
tainty of  meeting,  especially  on  Sundays,  a  number 
of  men  occupying  distinguished  positions  in  the 
world  of  art. 

Hither  too,  but  before  my  time,  came  frequently 
a  vehement  young  man  who  was  greatly  attached 
to  my  aunt.  He  would  read  to  her  long  screeds 
of  a  work  in  manuscript.  Sometimes  he  would  set 
the  whole  household  running  about  fetching  colours, 
brushes,  paper,  that  he  might  on  the  spur  of  the 
moment  copy  a  flower  from  the  conservatory.  He 
was  supposed  to  be  briUiantly  clever,  and  in  the 
course  of  a  few  years  became  recognised  as  one  of 


MR.    BICKNELL   AND    HIS    FRIENDS   63 

our  most  original  and  eloquent  writers.  He  was 
the  son  of  a  near  neighbour,  and  his  name — 
John  Ruskin. 

Ruskin's  fame  is  part  of  the  glory  of  English  litera- 
ture. The  passion,  splendour,  and  opulence  of  his 
style  will  attract  readers  for  sheer  delight,  long  after 
his  detailed  opinions  on  art  have  become  waste 
paper.  But  he  has  before  him  a  certain  immortality 
in  virtue  of  his  works  on  social  science,  for  in  re- 
modelling political  economy  by  the  light  of  Christian 
ethics  he  was  original  and  sound. 

During  the  latter  years  of  his  life,  the  workings 
of  his  great  intellect  were  hampered  by  illness.  As 
he  had  no  immediate  family  he  would  have  had 
a  long  period  of  solitary  suffering,  but  fortunately 
that  was  not  the  case.  There  were  relations  who 
loved  and  understood  him,  and  devoted  their  lives 
in  tending  on  him,  so  that  to  the  end  he  lived  in  the 
midst  of  the  beautiful  Lake  country  he  loved  so  well. 
The  nation's  gratitude  is  due  to  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Severn  for  their  unwearied  care  of  John  Ruskin  in 
the  day  of  his  trouble  and  darkness. 

From  the  beginning  he  was  capricious  in  his 
opinions,  and  very  unwilling  to  accept  a  lead  from 
anybody.  Mr.  Bicknell  told  me  that  one  day  on  leav- 
ing the  dining-room  Ruskin's  attention  was  strongly 
attracted  by  a  large  picture  by  Calcott,  called  "  Cross- 


64  PHIZ   AND   DICKENS 

ing  the  Brook,"  which  hung  over  the  mantelpiece. 
It  was  a  picture  of  lofty  trees  and  cattle  crossing  a 
shallow  stream,  the  whole  suffused  with  a  golden  light 
expressive  of  the  sentiment  of  evening  calm.  Ruskin 
appeared  to  be  looking  at  it  with  great  enjoyment. 
Bicknell,  after  waiting  some  time,  said,  "  How  do 
you  like  it,  John  }  '*  "  I  don't  like  it  at  all,"  he 
replied ;  "  I  don't  care  for  cows  in  a  ditch,"  thus 
exhibiting  on  a  small  scale  those  traits  which  after- 
wards became  characteristic.  The  tendency  to 
refuse  to  acquiesce  in  an  opinion  because  it  was 
expressed  by  another,  and  to  deprive  a  subject 
of  its  rights  by  describing  it  in  lower  terms,  as  in 
the  substitution  of  the  ditch  for  the  ford,  was  a  very 
effective  stroke,  but  neither  truthful  nor  fair. 

I  met  Mr.  Ruskin  many  years  afterwards  at  the 
house  of  Mr.  Philip  Rathbone.  Mr.  Ruskin  sat 
surrounded  by  a  bevy  of  ladies,  mostly  young, 
like  a  modern  Apollo  in  the  midst  of  muses  and 
nymphs.  He  was  holding  a  desultory  conversation 
after  the  manner  of  some  philosophers  who  ask 
questions  and  allow  their  disciples  to  arrive  at  the 
goal  by  dint  of  answers  which  require  reiterated 
correction  to  make  them  within  a  measurable  dis- 
tance of  the  truth,  after  the  fashion  of  children  playing 
"  man  and  his  object,"  which  are  ultimately  named 
by  players  who  are  entirely  ignorant  of  both.     I 


MR.    BICKNELL   AND    HIS    FRIENDS    65 

only  remember  one  instance.  The  professor  asked, 
"  What  is  the  characteristic  of  Greek  art  ?  "  A 
very  pink  young  lady  opined  that  it  was  "  Strong." 
"  My  dear,"  said  Mr.  Ruskin  in  a  very  soft  voice, 
"  the  Devil  is  strong,"  and  for  a  time  the  nymphs 
were  covered  with  confusion. 

The  number  and  importance  of  Mr.  Bicknell's  ex- 
amples certainly  contributed  a  good  deal  to  enhance 
the  appreciation  of  Turner's  gifts,  and  when  we  con- 
sider that  Mr.  Ruskin,  senior,  had  also  a  number 
of  very  valuable  Turners,  we  can  see  how  the  early 
life  of  John  Ruskin  was  so  strongly  influenced. 
He  had  that  intimate  knowledge  which  only  an  early 
and  daily  association  with  these  pictures  could  have 
furnished,  and  he  brought  to  bear  on  the  subject  an 
astonishing  store  of  natural  facts  and  phenomena. 
No  flower  that  grew  on  the  earth,  no  branch  that 
sprung  from  a  tree,  no  cloud  that  floated  in  the 
sky,  but  had  been  watched  and  noted,  and  grouped 
in  his  wonderful  memory.  He  endeavoured  to  coax 
and  coerce  painters  into  an  accurate  observation 
and  a  laborious  imitation  of  natural  objects,  and 
he  was  always  ready,  out  of  his  accumulated  know- 
ledge, to  vituperate  against  anyone  who  failed  in 
any  minute  particular.  He  certainly  had  immense 
influence,  and  if  he  could   have  produced   genius, 

instead  of  merely  stimulating  patient  industry,  he 

£ 


66  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

might  have  founded  an  immortal  school  of  painting. 
As  it  was,  it  merely  resulted  in  a  number  of  tran- 
scripts from  Nature  so  elaborately  finished  and 
crowded  with  bud  and  blossom,  that  the  pictures 
could  not  be  seen  for  the  botany.  But  though  his 
precepts  and  criticisms  of  painting  are  no  longer 
greatly  valued,  his  expositions  of  the  principles  of 
architecture  are  still  of  abiding  interest  and  value. 
Although  the  merits  and  beauties  of  Gothic 
architecture  had  been  excellently  described,  both 
by  writing  and  drawing,  by  such  men  as  Pugin, 
Rickman,  and  Petit,  no  one  but  John  Ruskin  had  laid 
open  the  inmost  and  secret  meaning  of  the  art  of 
the  Middle  Ages .  By  his  upbringing  he  was  narrowly 
Evangelical,  yet  his  innate  sense  of  rectitude  enabled 
him  to  see  the  spiritual  and  moral  side  of  the  great 
mediaeval  builders  and  decorators.  He  described 
their  technique  as  deriving  its  perfection  from  the 
underlying  piety  of  the  heart  rather  than  from  their 
academic  practice  of  the  hand.  He  disentangled 
beauty  from  prettiness.  He  was  more  than  enthusi- 
astic in  his  praise  of  their  workmanship.  He  was 
also,  characteristically,  so  unfair  in  his  denunciation 
of  all  forms  of  Classic  and  Renaissance  architecture, 
that  no  one  dare  look  at  it  sideways.  He  positively 
revolutionised  English  thought  and  taste  for  a  time, 
and  if  Gothic  architecture  could  by  any  possibility 


12; 

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SKETCHES   OF   WOMEN  AND   CHILDREN. 


Probably  connected  with  a  series  illtislraluig  the  /ii'e  senses — a  favourite  subject 
Pen  and  ink  on  scraps  of  letter  paper. 


MR.    BICKNELL   AND    HIS    FRIENDS    67 

have  been  adapted  to  modern  wants,  our  land  would 
have  been  covered  by  imitations  and  modifications  of 
thirteenth-century  work.  What  really  did  happen 
was  the  erection  of  a  few  churches  which  were  actual 
forgeries  of  old  work,  and  things  like  the  museum 
at  Oxford. 

He  began  by  contributing  a  series  of  papers  to 
the  Architectural  Magazine  for  1837  on  the  poetry 
of  architecture,  under  the  nom  de  plume  of  Kata 
Phusin  (according  to  Nature).  He  says  himself 
in  the  preface  to  their  collection  in  book  form, 
"  The  adoption  of  a  nom  de  plume  at  all  implied 
(as  also  the  concealment  of  name  on  the  first  publi- 
cation of  Modern  Painters)  a  sense  of  a  power  of 
judgment  in  myself  which  it  would  not  have  been 
becoming  in  a  youth  of  eighteen  to  claim." 

He  is  generally  classed  as  a  critic,  but  he  was 
deficient  in  the  essential  qualities  of  good  criticism. 
He  had  no  sense  of  justice  ;  he  was  in  reality  a 
great  special  pleader,  and  he  had  the  quality  of 
many  great  special  pleaders,  of  aiding  his  cause  by 
material  which  might  be  effective,  but  was  certainly 
not  veracious.  His  great  book  Modern  Painters  had 
as  an  avowed  theme  a  demonstration  of  the  great- 
ness and  superiority  of  Turner  over  every  landscape 
painter  of  any  nation  and  of  any  time.  In  order  to 
make  this  an  effective  plea,  and  addressing  himself 


68  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

to  the  jury  and  ignoring  the  judge  (who  might 
probably  ask  for  confirmation  of  the  evidence), 
he  described  an  imaginary  Turner,  neglected,  per- 
secuted, and  dying  of  a  broken  heart.  It  is  hardly 
credible  to  the  present  generation  how  the  intelli- 
gent and  right-thinking  people  of  the  sentimental 
early  Victorian  time  were  moved  by  this  pathetic 
picture.  It  did  not  seem  to  occur  to  them  that  a 
man  might  be  a  fine  painter  and  at  the  same  time 
a  prosperous  man,  so  they  wasted  their  tears  on 
the  greatest  literary  bogus  of  any  age. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  Turner  in  youth  met  with  an 
intelligent  patron,  was  admitted  an  Associate  of  the 
Royal  Academy  at  a  very  early  age,  had  rich  men 
clamouring  at  his  door  for  pictures  that  he  refused 
to  sell,  and  died  leaving  a  very  large  fortune  and 
those  of  his  pictures  that  he  considered  his  master- 
pieces to  form  an  integral  part  of  the  National 
Collection. 

Though,  as  I  have  said,  I  think  the  Ruskin  and 
Bicknell  Turners  had  a  great  influence  in  forming 
John  Ruskin's  mind,  I  do  not  think  he  ever  in- 
fluenced Mr.  Bicknell's  taste  in  the  slightest  degree. 
Mr.  Bicknell  had  made  up  his  mind  about  Turner 
before  Ruskin  was  breeched,  and  he  had  that  in- 
stinctive taste  which  is  an  inborn  quality  with  some 
men,  and  the    faculty  of  knowing   what  he  liked 


MR.  BICKNELL   AND   HIS    FRIENDS    69 

and  what  he  did  not.  He  was  certainly  never 
persuaded  into  admiring  any  of  the  pre-RaphaeUtes, 
who  started  with  Mr.  Ruskin  as  fugleman.  I  never 
remember  him  taking  any  notice  of  them  except  his 
saying  as  a  sort  of  pleasantry,  "  Millais  was  always 
bought  by  telegraph." 

Mr.  Ruskin,  I  need  hardly  remind  my  readers, 
poured  forth  pamphlets,  articles,  letters  to  the  news- 
papers, to  prove  that  Turner  was  really  a  pre- 
Raphaelite  in  disguise,  that  his  young  friends  were 
always  in  the  right,  and  everybody  else  considerably 
in  the  wrong.  No  one  who  did  not  experience  it 
can  imagine  the  excitement  at  the  time.  The 
pamphlets  reached  the  man  in  the  street,  or  were 
read  aloud  at  dinner  in  ladies'  schools.  All  the 
world  talked  about  Ruskin,  or  apologetically  en- 
deavoured to  stand  up  for  the  other  side.  Mr. 
Ruskin  continued  his  denunciations,  sometimes  with 
the  acerbity  of  Serjeant  Buzfuz,  and  sometimes 
with  the  haughty  majesty  of  a  Hebrew  prophet. 
He  dictated  for  the  sake  of  dictating,  and  he 
brooked  no  opposition.  In  an  evil  hour  he  ran 
across  Mr.  Whistler,  whose  work  was  the  antithesis 
of  anything  of  which  he  had  ever  approved.  He 
said  "  he  had  lived  long  enough  to  see  a  coxcomb 
ask  ^^200  for  flinging  a  paint-pot  in  the  public's 
face."     No  man  in  a  public  position  had  a  right  to 


70  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

call  another  a  coxcomb,  even  if  he  had  a  white  lock 
and  carried  a  long  walking-stick. 

Harmless  eccentricities  are  the  individual  right 
of  any  man,  and  certainly  do  not  affect  the  quality 
of  the  painter's  work.  Whistler  resembled  the 
creature  described  by  the  French  naturalist,  ''  cet 
animal  est  tres  mechant  ;  quand  on  I'attaque  il  se 
defend." 

''  Mr.  Ruskin,"  said  Whistler,  ''  had  no  right  to 
criticise  pictures.  He  is  not  acquainted  with  the 
art  of  painting."  "  What  ?  "  said  Mr.  Ruskin  ;  "  I 
not  acquainted  with  the  art  of  painting  ?  I  have 
passed  my  life  in  contemplation  of  the  old  masters." 
"  So,"  said  Whistler,  "  has  the  policeman  in  the 
National  Gallery." 

An  action  at  law  like  that  which  followed  cannot, 
in  the  nature  of  things,  bear  any  relation  to  serious 
criticism,  and  the  astonishing  effect  apparently  pro- 
duced was  not  due  to  the  verdict,  but  to  the  demon- 
stration of  the  fact  that  a  revolution  had  silently 
taken  place,  and  was  successful.  Mr.  Whistler's 
gibe  was  as  unfair  as  any  of  Mr.  Ruskin 's  contemp- 
tuous phrases,  but  it  was  more  fatal,  because  it  was 
supported  by  an  open  contempt  of  all  those  standards 
of  right  and  wrong  that  had  been  carefully  set  up 
and  implicitly  believed. 

According  to  the  new  view,  a  picture  was  to  be 


MR.    BICKNELL   AND    HIS    FRIENDS    71 

judged  by  a  competent  painter  on  account  of  the 
quality  of  its  paint,  and  not  by  a  moralist  on  account 
of  its  didactic  lesson.  It  is  not  the  story,  nor  the 
archaeology,  nor  even  the  imitation  of  natural  ob- 
jects that  count.  It  is  the  sheer  quality  of  the  paint, 
tone,  colour,  harmony,  and  abstract  beauty.  A 
picture  is  an  affair  of  the  effect  produced  upon  the 
eye  of  the  spectator  by  the  eye  and  the  hand  of  the 
painter.  A  difficult  and  strait  gate  to  enter,  and  the 
early  Victorian  had  learnt  to  walk  in  a  very  different 
path.  Mr.  Whistler  had  the  courage  of  his  opinions. 
He  had  the  conviction  born  of  experience,  that  an 
easy  dab  of  the  brush  with  exactly  the  right  colour 
could  only  be  acquired  by  years  of  devoted  labour 
and  a  specially  trained  mind  and  hand.  So  that  a 
hasty  scrub  of  a  big  brush  might  really  be  more 
laborious  than  elaborate  stippling  in  spots  that 
could  only  be  seen  by  a  magnifying  glass. 

When  the  Grosvenor  Gallery  was  first  opened, 
with  the  avowed  intention  of  showing  works  which 
did  not  conform  to  the  academical  standard,  a  friend 
of  mine  saw  in  the  catalogue, let  us  say  240,  a  Nocturne 
in  grey  and  green,  and  301,  a  Harmony  in  rose  and 
silver,  by  Mr.  Whistler.  On  looking  at  the  pictures 
the  colours  appeared  reversed,  as  he  noticed  that 
301  had  certainly  a  prevailing  tint  of  green,  and 
240  of  rose  and  silver.    After  puzzling  over   this 


72  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

for  some  time,  mistrusting  his  own  judgment  and 
fancying  he  was  going  colour-bhnd,  he  made  his 
way  to  the  secretary,  and  told  him  there  was  an  error 
in  the  catalogue.  "  Oh,"  he  said,  "  hundreds  of 
people  have  pointed  it  out  to  us,  and  we  have  told 
Mr.  Whistler."  "  What  did  Mr.  Whistler  say  ?  " 
"  He  said  it  did  not  matter  a  damn."     Nor  did  it. 

But  behind  all  the  flourish  there  remains  a  solid 
rule  for  guidance  in  appreciating  any  artistic  works, 
namely,  that  under  all  circumstances  the  best  and 
worst  criticism  must  involve  the  personal  impression 
of  the  spectator,  and  in  spite  of  all  that  may  be  said 
by  the  professional  critic,  an  intellectually  honest 
man  will  judge  a  work  of  art  in  proportion  as  it 
embodies  qualities  he  thinks  desirable  ;  and  the 
lesson  to  be  derived  is,  that  we  can  no  more  afford 
to  be  intolerant  in  art  than  we  can  in  religion.  No 
one  can  know  more  than  a  little  of  either,  and  a 
word  may  even  be  said  for  the  policeman  in  our 
National  Collection. 

Two  young  artists  were  wandering  in  South 
Kensington,  and  they  came  upon  a  cast  of  Rodin's 
"  Saint  John  the  Baptist."  The  work  is  in  the  Luxem- 
bourg, and  the  reader  will  remember  that  the  sculptor 
has  desired  to  show  that  the  great  message  was  not 
sent  to  the  world  by  a  person  of  surpassing  beauty 
and  royal  appearance,  but  by  a  poor  peasant,  worn 


MR.    BICKNELL   AND    HIS    FRIENDS    73 

and  deformed  by  poverty  and  toil,  and  consequently 
with  no  comeliness  of  shape  nor  pleasant  proportions. 
My  young  friends,  with  their  minds  full  of  academic 
grace,  proceeded  after  the  manner  of  artists  to  view 
the  work  with  much  gesticulation  and  drawing  of 
imaginary  lines  with  their  hands,  shading  their 
eyes,  and  discussing  the  proportions  and  so  forth 
with  great  vigour.  They  especially  fell  foul  of  the 
left  shoulder,  and  they  were  arranging  for  a  great 
many  alterations  to  be  made  to  bring  this  statue 
into  conformity  with  their  ideas.  So  doing,  they 
became  conscious  of  a  stealthy  step  behind  them, 
and  a  voice  said,  "  Admiring  the  Evangelist,  gentle- 
men ?  "  They  said,  "  Well,  not  exactly  admiring, 
we  were  criticising.  We  don't  like  this,"  and  they 
pointed,  "  and  we  don't  like  that,"  and  again  they 
fell  foul  of  the  left  shoulder.  The  guardian  said, 
'*  We've  got  eighteen  St.  John's  on  the  premises, 
and  I  do  say  for  sheer  downright  ugliness  this  one 
takes  the  cake." 


CHAPTER    V 
DICKENS  AND   SOME   OF   HIS   ILLUSTRATORS 

On  the  whole  Dickens  seems  to  have  agreed  well 
with  his  illustrators,  which  is  more  than  can  be 
said  of  many  authors,  who  as  a  race  are  touchy, 
and  often  as  difficult  to  please  as  fond  mothers  with 
the  portraits  of  their  children.  He  does  not  seem  to 
have  had  any  very  strong  perception  of  the  artistic 
side  of  drawing  and  painting,  and  did  not  always 
realise  that  literary  exaggeration  can  only  be  repre- 
sented by  caricature. 

The  basis  of  his  observation  of  character  was  a 
very  remarkable  realism,  to  which  he  added  all  sorts 
of  ornaments  and  exaggerations  for  dramatic  pre- 
sentation. He  seems  to  have  been  quite  unconscious 
that  in  some  instances  the  realism  was  obscured 
by  ornamentation,  and  that  the  realist  was  not 
apparent. 

For  literary  purposes  the  outward  appearance  of 
a  character  can  be  so  described  as  to  seem  quite 
independent  of,  or  even  opposed  to,  his  moral 
nature.  For  pictorial  purposes  they  must  agree ; 
it  is  all  very  well  to  write  that  a  man  "  may  smile 

74 


DICKENS  AND  HIS  ILLUSTRATORS  75 

and  smile  and  be  a  villain,"  but  it  would  be  beyond 
the  powers  of  a  draughtsman  to  make  a  man  smile 
so  as  to  appear  genial,  and  yet  make  it  apparent 
that  he  has  a  black  soul  within.  He  must  either 
look  a  villain,  or  he  won't  represent  one.  That 
is  where  the  enormous  capacity  of  the  stage  for 
complete  expression  of  emotion  is  most  apparent. 
An  actor  by  his  elocution  represents  the  literary 
side,  and  by  his  facial  expression  becomes  his  own 
illustrator. 

In  the  ordinary  routine  of  business  a  design  was 
drawn  and  submitted  to  Dickens,  who  made  any 
suggestions  that  occurred  to  him,  which  the  illus- 
trator cheerfully  adopted.  Whether  it  was  from 
accident  that  this  precautionary  measure  was  omitted 
or  some  other  reason,  on  some  few  occasions  the  work 
seems  to  have  passed  into  its  final  stage  without 
his  having  seen  the  sketch,  and  in  certain  instances 
he  did  not  see  the  drawings  till  they  were  included 
in  the  complete  book.  The  first  in  order  of  time 
was  an  illustration  by  Cruikshank  in  Oliver  Twisty 
representing  Rose  Maylie  and  Oliver  standing  in 
front  of  the  memorial  tablet  put  up  in  memory  of 
Oliver's  mother.  With  this  Dickens  seems  to  have 
been  disappointed,  and  writes  in  the  following  manner 
to  Cruikshank:  "Without  entering  into  the  ques- 
tion of  great  haste,  or  any  other  cause,  which  may 


76  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

have  led  to  its  being  what  it  is,  I  am  quite  sure  there 
can  be  little  difference  of  opinion  between  us  with 
respect  to  the  result.  May  I  ask  you  whether  you 
will  object  to  designing  this  plate  afresh,  and  doing 
so  at  oncey  in  order  that  as  few  impressions  as  possible 
of  the  present  one  may  go  forth  ?  I  feel  confident 
you  know  me  too  well  to  feel  hurt  by  this  enquiry, 
and  with  equal  confidence  in  you  I  have  lost  no 
time  in  preferring  it." 

I  have  not  had  an  opportunity  of  seeing  the 
original  plate,  but  the  revised  version  is  certainly 
tame  and  undistinguished. 

Then  again  he  disapproves  of  the  sketches  made 
by  Leech  and  Doyle  for  two  illustrations  in  The 
Chimes.  Here  both  the  artists  failed  in  the  repre- 
sentation of  character  according  to  the  author's  ideas. 
Owing  to  his  absence  in  Italy  Dickens  did  not  see 
the  designs,  and  on  his  return  arranged  to  have  fresh 
drawings  made,  as  the  following  letter  to  his  wife 
explains : — 

"  £>ec.  2nd,  1844, 

"Piazza  Coffee  House, 

"  CovENT  Garden. 

"  The  little  book  is  now,  as  far  as  I  am  concerned, 
all  ready.  One  cut  of  Doyle's  and  one  of  Leech's 
I  found  so  unlike  my  ideas,  that  I  had  them  both 
to  breakfast  with  me  this  morning,  and  with  that 
winning  manner  which  you  know  of,  got  them  with 


DICKENS   AND    HIS    ILLUSTRATORS    77 

the  highest  good  humour  to  do  both  afresh.     They 
are  now  hard  at  it." 

On  another  occasion  Dickens  considered  that 
Leech  had  egregiously  erred  in  his  illustration  to 
The  Battle  of  Life  in  representing  Michael  Warden 
accompanying  Marion  in  flight.  Dickens  writes 
from  Paris  to  Forster  as  follows  : — 

"  When  I  first  saw  it,  it  was  with  a  horror  and 
agony  not  to  be  expressed.  Of  course  I  need  not 
tell  you,  my  dear  fellow,  Warden  has  no  business 
in  the  elopement  scene.  He  was  never  there  !  In 
the  first  hot  sweat  of  this  surprise  and  novelty 
I  was  going  to  implore  the  printing  of  that  sheet 
to  be  stopped,  and  the  figure  taken  out  of  the  block. 
But  when  I  thought  of  the  pain  that  this  might 
give  to  our  kind-hearted  Leech,  and  that  what 
is  such  a  monstrous  enormity  to  me,  as  never 
having  entered  my  brain,  may  not  so  present  itself 
to  others,  I  became  more  composed,  though  the 
fact  is  wonderful  to  me." 

On  this  I  would  remark  that  our  dear  delightful 
Dickens,  who  when  dealing  with  a  comic  situation 
is  clear,  precise,  and  lucid,  in  describing  a  serious 
and  sentimental  incident,  is  often  obscure,  and  con- 
trives   to    involve   circumstances,  which    might   be 


78  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

advantageously  told    plainly,  in   a   fog  of  mystery 
which  is  never  cleared  away. 

We  may  remind  the  reader  that  we  first  make 
acquaintance  with  Dr.  Jeddler's  ward,  Alfred  Heath- 
field,  when  he  is  setting  out  for  three  years'  residence 
on  the  Continent  to  perfect  his  medical  knowledge. 
He  is  betrothed  to  his  guardian's  youngest  daughter, 
Marion,  and  it  is  understood  he  is  to  marry  her  on 
his  return.  At  the  moment  of  parting  we  are  given 
a  hint  that  the  course  of  true  love  may  not  be  alto- 
gether smooth,  for  Grace,  the  eldest  sister,  is  active 
in  her  farewells,  and  Marion  remains  inexplicably 
silent.  Alfred  says,  "  Marion,  dearest  heart,  good- 
bye !  Sister  Grace  !  remember  !  "  The  quiet 
household  figure,  and  the  face  so  beautiful  in  its 
serenity,  were  turned  towards  him  in  reply  ;  but 
Marion's  look  and  attitude  remained  unchanged. 
The  coach  was  at  the  gate.  There  was  a  bustle 
with  the  luggage.  The  coach  drove  away.  Marion 
never  moved.  "  He  waves  his  hat  to  you,  my  love," 
said  Grace.  "  Your  chosen  husband,  darling. 
Look  !  "  The  younger  sister  raised  her  head, 
and,  for  a  moment,  turned  it.  Then,  turning  back 
again,  and  fully  meeting,  for  the  first  time,  those 
calm  eyes,  fell  sobbing  on  her  neck.  "  Oh,  Grace. 
God  bless  you  !  But  I  cannot  bear  to  see  it,  Grace  ! 
It    breaks    my    heart."    Nearly    three    years    after, 


DICKENS   AND    HIS    ILLUSTRATORS    79 

Michael  Warden,  the  young  squire  of  the  district, 
has  an  interview  with  his  lawyers,  Craggs  and 
Snitchey,  concerning  the  management  of  his  nearly 
ruined  estate.  At  the  same  time  he  announces  he 
is  in  love  with  Marion.  The  lawyer  Snitchey  tells 
him  she  is  engaged.  Warden  replies,  women  have 
been  known  to  change  their  minds.  He  says,  "  I 
mean,  if  I  can,  to  marry  Marion,  the  doctor's  lovely 
daughter,  and  to  carry  her  away  with  me.  I  am 
not  going  to  carry  the  young  lady  off  without  her 
own  consent.  There's  nothing  illegal  in  it."  Mr. 
Snitchey  says,  "  It  can't  be  done.  She  dotes  on 
Mr.  Alfred."  Warden  says,  "  I  did  not  live  six 
weeks  some  few  months  ago  in  the  doctor's  house 
for  nothing,  and  I  doubted  that  soon.  She  would 
have  doted  on  him  if  her  sister  could  have  brought 
it  about,  but  I  watched  them.  Marion  avoided  his 
name,  avoided  the  subject,  shrunk  from  the  least 
allusion  to  it,  with  evident  distress. 

"  But  I  mean  to  do  the  doctor  no  wrong  or  harm, 
but  I  hope  to  rescue  his  child,  my  Marion,  from 
what  I  see.  I  know  she  dreads  and  contemplates 
with  misery,  that  is,  the  return  of  this  old  lover. 
If  anything  in  the  world  is  true,  'tis  that  she  dreads 
his  return." 

Michael  arranges  to  leave  the  country  that  day 


8o  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

month.  On  the  same  day  a  letter  is  received  by  the 
doctor  from  Alfred,  saying  he  will  return  that  day 
month.  Soon  after  this  we  learn  that  Michael 
Warden,  after  the  family  have  retired  to  rest,  has 
a  clandestine  interview  with  Marion  in  the  garden, 
with  the  sole  connivance  of  Clemency,  the  old 
servant. 

"  Sorrowing  and  wondering,  Clemency  turned  the 
key,  and  opened  the  door.  Into  the  dark  and  doubt- 
ful night  that  lay  beyond  the  threshold  Marion 
passed  quickly,  holding  by  her  hand.  In  the  dark 
night  he  joined  her,  and  they  spoke  together  earnestly 
and  long  :  and  the  hand  that  held  so  fast  by  Clem- 
ency's now  trembled,  now  turned  deadly  cold,  and 
now  clasped  and  closed  on  hers,  in  the  strong  feeling 
of  speech  it  emphasized  unconsciously.  When  they 
returned,  he  followed  her  to  the  door  ;  and  pausing 
there  a  moment,  seized  the  other  hand,  and  pressed 
it  to  his  lips,  then  stealthily  withdrew.  The 
door  was  barred  and  locked  again,  and  once  again 
she  stood  beneath  her  father's  roof.  Not  bowed 
down  by  the  secret  she  had  brought  there,  though 
so  young,  but  with  that  same  expression  on  her  face, 
for  which  I  had  no  name  before,  and  shining  through 
her  tears.  Again  she  thanked  and  thanked  her 
humble  friend,  and  trusted  to  her,  as  she  said,  with 
confidence  implicitly.    Her  chamber  safely  reached. 


DICKENS    AND    HIS    ILLUSTRATORS    8i 

she  fell  upon  her  knees,  and  with  her  secret  weigh- 
ing on  her  heart,  could  pray  !  Could  rise  up  from 
her  prayers,  so  tranquil  and  serene,  and  bending 
over  her  fond  sister  in  her  slumber,  look  upon  her 
face  and  smile,  though  sadly,  murmuring  as  she  kissed 
her  forehead,  how  that  Grace  had  been  a  mother 
to  her,  ever,  and  she  loved  her  as  a  child  !  Could 
draw  the  passive  arm  about  her  neck  when  lying  down 
to  rest — it  seemed  to  cling  there,  of  its  own  will, 
protectingly  and  tenderly  even  in  sleep — and  breathe 
upon  the  parted  lips,  God  bless  her  !  Could  sink 
into  a  peaceful  sleep,  herself,  but  for  one  dream, 
in  which  she  cried  out,  in  her  innocent  and  touch- 
ing voice,  that  she  was  quite  alone,  and  they  had 
all  forgotten  her." 

The  lawyer  has  another  long  interview  with 
Michael  Warden,  who  definitely  arranged  to  go 
away  an  hour  before  midnight,  when  the  tide  serves. 
On  the  day  of  Alfred's  return  Dr.  Jeddler  is  giving 
a  party  to  welcome  the  traveller  home.  Towards 
the  end  of  the  party,  shortly  before  Alfred's  return, 
Marion  quits  her  home,  without  acquainting  anyone 
of  the  intention,  but  she  leaves  a  letter  saying  she 
has  made  her  innocent  and  blameless  choice,  and 
entreats  they  will  forgive  her.  He  disappears  at 
the  same  time  as  Marion  ;  they  both  disappear  into 
the    darkness    of   the    night.    He    returns    without 


82  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

warning  six  years  afterwards  on  the  same  day 
that  she  returns  to  her  family,  and  it  is  only  then 
that  Marion  explains  the  motive  which  actuated 
her. 

The  foregoing  is  the  full  and  particular  account 
of  the  occurrence,  and  it  must  be  obvious  that  if 
Dickens  did  not  intentionally  mislead  the  reader, 
he  did  so  accidentally.  The  account  certainly  pre- 
sents that  appearance.  Leech  not  having  been 
specially  warned,  fell  into  the  trap,  as  any  ordinary 
reader  must  have  done. 

In  the  illustration  by  Maclise,  Michael  Warden 
is  shown  with  his  hand  on  his  heart  (the  right-hand 
side  !),  and  Marion  is  holding  Clemency's  hand,  so 
that  Michael  Warden  seemed  indubitably  to  have 
a  finger  in  the  pie. 

At  another  time  a  difficulty  arose  over  one  of 
my  father's  illustrations  to  Domhey  and  Son.  At  the 
time  he  began  the  book  Dickens  was  abroad,  and 
he  indicates  subjects  for  illustration,  not  directly 
to  Browne,  but  by  letter  to  Forster.  Among  them 
he  suggested  "  The  best  subject  for  Browne  will  be 
at  Mrs.  Pipchin's,  and  if  he  liked  to  do  a  quiet  odd 
thing,  Paul,  Mrs.  Pipchin  and  the  cat  by  the  fire, 
would  be  very  good  for  the  story."  Dickens  does 
not  seem  to  have  seen  the  sketch,  but  when  he  saw 
the  illustration,  he  expressed  himself  as  grievously 


'^.:^         ■ 


>   .  i  =' 


ILLUSTRATION   TO    "THE    BATTLE    OF    LIKE." 
By  J.  Leech,  showing  Michael  Warden  eloping  with  Marion. 


DICKENS   AND    HIS    ILLUSTRATORS    83 

disappointed  with  what  he  considered  a  misrepre- 
sentation of  the  text.    Here  follows  the  text : — 

"  This  celebrated  Mrs.  Pipchin  was  a  marvellous 
ill-favoured,  ill-conditioned  old  lady,  of  a  stooping 
figure,  with  a  mottled  face  like  bad  marble,  a  hook 
nose,  and  a  hard  grey  eye,  that  looked  as  if  it  might 
have  been  hammered  at  on  an  anvil  without  sus- 
taining any  injury.  At  this  exemplary  old  lady, 
Paul  would  sit  staring  in  his  little  arm-chair  by  the 
fire  for  any  length  of  time.  He  never  seemed  to 
know  what  weariness  was,  when  he  was  looking  fixedly 
at  Mrs.  Pipchin.  He  was  not  fond  of  her,  he  was 
not  afraid  of  her  ;  but  in  those  odd  moods  of  his, 
she  seemed  to  have  a  grotesque  attraction  for  him. 
There  he  would  sit,  looking  at  her,  and  warming  his 
hands,  and  looking  at  her,  until  he  sometimes  quite 
confounded  Mrs.  Pipchin,  Ogress  as  she  was. 

"  From  that  time,  Mrs.  Pipchin  appeared  to  have 
something  of  the  same  odd  kind  of  attraction  to- 
wards Paul,  as  Paul  had  towards  her.  She  would 
make  him  move  his  chair  to  her  side  of  the  fire, 
instead  of  sitting  opposite  ;  and  there  he  would 
remain  in  a  nook  between  Mrs.  Pipchin  and  the 
fender,  with  all  the  light  of  his  little  face  absorbed 
into  the  black  bombazeen  drapery,  studying  every 
line  and  wrinkle  of  her  countenance,  and  peering  at 


84  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

the  hard  grey  eye,  until  Mrs.  Pipchin  was  fain  to 
shut  it,  on  pretence  of  dozing.  Mrs.  Pipchin  had 
an  old  black  cat,  who  generally  lay  coiled  upon  the 
centre  foot  of  the  fender,  purring  egotistically, 
and  winking  at  the  fire  until  the  contracted  pupils 
of  his  eyes  were  like  two  notes  of  admiration.  The 
good  old  lady  might  have  been — not  to  record  it 
disrespectfully — a  witch,  and  Paul  and  the  cat  her 
two  familiars,  as  they  all  sat  by  the  fire  together.'* 

The  above  extract  contains  every  word  of  descrip- 
tion that  could  be  of  any  guide  to  the  illustrator. 
Her  hard  grey  eye,  her  mottled  complexion,  quite 
incapable  of  representation  in  black  and  white. 
Dickens  in  his  mind's  eye  had  in  view  an  old  lady 
with  whom  he  lodged  in  Camden-town  during 
that  period  of  misery  and  suffering  at  the  black- 
ing warehouse.  In  an  account  of  his  own  life  he 
writes  to  Forster  as  follows  : — 

"  The  key  of  the  house  was  sent  back  to  the  land- 
lord, who  was  very  glad  to  get  it  ;  and  I  (small  Cain 
that  I  was,  except  that  I  had  never  done  harm  to 
anyone)  was  handed  over  as  a  lodger  to  a  reduced 
old  lady,  long  known  to  our  family,  in  Little-college 
Street,  Camden-town,  who  took  children  in  to  board, 
and  had  once  done  so  at  Brighton  ;    and  who,  with 


DICKENS   AND    HIS    ILLUSTRATORS    85 

a  few  alterations  and  embellishments,  unconsciously 
began  to  sit  for  Mrs.  Pipchin  in  Dombey,  when  she 
took  me  in.  She  had  a  little  brother  and  sister 
under  her  care  then  ;  somebody's  natural  children, 
who  were  very  irregularly  paid  for  ;  and  a  widow's 
little  son.  The  two  boys  and  I  slept  in  the  same 
room.  My  own  exclusive  breakfast,  of  a  penny 
cottage  loaf  and  a  pennyworth  of  milk,  I  provided 
for  myself.  I  kept  another  small  loaf,  and  a  quarter 
of  a  pound  of  cheese,  on  a  particular  shelf  of  a  par- 
ticular cupboard." 

The  etching  evidently  did  not  correspond  with 
Dickens'  preconceived  idea,  and  he  writes  in  his 
exaggerated  manner  : — 

"  I  am  really  distressed  by  the  illustration  of  Mrs. 
Pipchin  and  Paul.  It  is  so  frightfully  and  wildly 
wide  of  the  mark.  Good  Heaven  !  In  the  com- 
monest and  most  literal  construction  of  the  text, 
it  is  all  wrong.  She  is  described  as  an  old  lady, 
and  Paul's  '  miniature  arm-chair  '  is  mentioned 
more  than  once.  He  ought  to  be  sitting  in  a  little 
arm-chair  down  in  the  corner  of  the  fireplace, 
staring  up  at  her.  I  can't  say  what  pain  and  vexa- 
tion it  is  to  be  so  utterly  misrepresented.  I  would 
cheerfully  have  given  a  hundred  pounds  to  have  kept 
this  illustration  out  of  the  book.     He  never  could 


86  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

have  got  that  idea  of  Mrs.  Pipchin  if  he  had  attended 
to  the  text.  Indeed  I  think  he  does  better  without 
the  text  ;  for  then  the  notion  is  made  easy  to  him 
in  short  description,  and  he  can't  help  taking  it  in." 

In  regard  to  the  chair,  it  is  mentioned  in  an 
earher  part  of  the  book  as  a  miniature  arm-chair, 
and  once  as  a  "  Httle  chair  "  and  as  "  his  chair  " 
without  any  quaUfying  adjective.  Two  points  may 
be  noticed.  Dickens  was  thinking  of  a  particular 
old  lady,  and  expected  to  see  her  in  the  illustration, 
and  was  therefore  disappointed  when  he  saw  Browne's 
old  lady  ;  who  was  similar,  but  not  the  same,  and, 
Dickens  imagined,  or  remembered,  a  child's  chair 
with  short  legs,  but  Browne  imagined  a  child's 
chair  with  long  legs,  and  a  foot-rest,  but  it  is  not 
"  frightfully  and  wildly  wide  of  the  mark,"  and  of 
course  there  is  an  artistic  reason  for  putting  little 
Paul  where  he  is,  as  to  have  put  him  lower  down 
would  have  left  a  gap  in  the  composition,  and  Paul 
is  seated  in  a  nook  between  Mrs.  Pipchin  and  the 
fireplace.  Sir  Frederick  Wedmore,  the  distinguished 
art  critic,  in  a  comparison  between  Browne's  draw- 
ing and  etching,  speaks  thus  :  "In  Dombey  the 
drawing  of  Dr.  Blimber  walking  out  with  his 
*  young  gentlemen  '  excels  in  fine  expressiveness 
the  etching,  good  as  that  is  ;  and  desirable  as  the 


DICKENS   AND    HIS    ILLUSTRATORS    87 

etchings  are  to  possess,  seeing  that  the  first  copies 
cannot  be  multipHed,  it  is  to  be  feared  the  superi- 
ority of  the  drawing  must  be  again  allowed  in  the 
lovely  design  of  little  Dombey  sitting  up  in  his  high 
chair  under  Mrs.  Pipchin's  mantelpiece,  and  in 
that  of  the  devoted  Florence  doing  Paul's  exercises 
while  a  stupid  companion  slumbers  by  the  wall. 
In  a  word,  the  drawings  are  often  better  than  the 
prints,  because  though  Hablot  Browne  was  an 
expressive  etcher  and  handled  the  needle  artfully, 
yet  his  command  was  more  curiously  complete 
over  one  of  the  most  delicate  tools  ever  invented 
for  the  suggestion  of  the  artistic  fancy — the  common 
lead-pencil." 

The  conclusion  inevitably  forced  upon  us  is  that 
Dickens  was  suffering  from  a  nervous  breakdown 
of  a  nature  that  makes  the  slightest  contretemps 
unbearable,  and  also  suffering  (in  consequence  of 
the  approaching  death  of  little  Paul)  from  that  species 
of  emotion  which  he  had  formerly  experienced 
when  he  approached  the  death  of  Nell  in  the  Old 
Curiosity  Shop.  One  thing  is  certain,  that  this 
dissatisfaction  never  reached  Browne's  ears,  for  he 
was  so  good-natured,  prolific  and  rapid,  that  he 
would  have  thought  nothing  of  producing  another 
plate.  At  the  beginning  of  the  work,  when  he  de- 
sired to  know  from  Dickens  what  Dombey  was  like, 


88  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

he  did  not  merely  sketch  off  one  head,  but  twenty- 
nine  ;  and  Dickens  himself,  in  writing  of  the  cover, 
says,  "  I  think  the  cover  very  good,  perhaps  with 
a  little  too  much  in  it,  but  that  is  an  ungrateful 
objection."  But  to  show  that  the  most  intimate 
acquaintance  with  the  text  will  not  always  preserve 
even  the  author  (let  alone  the  illustrator)  from 
making  small  slips,  we  find  Dickens  himself  describ- 
ing old  Sol  "  squeezing  both  the  Captain's  hands 
with  uncommon  fervour."  Well  may  we  say  "  in 
the  commonest  and  most  literal  construction  of  the 
text  it  is  all  wrong,"  as  everybody  knows  Captain 
Cuttle  had  only  one  hand  and  a  hook.  But  the  fact 
is,  no  text  or  set  of  illustrations  is  likely  to  be  found 
without  errors  which  have  crept  in  and  escaped 
correction.  That  Dickens  afterwards  thought 
enormously  highly  of  the  drawings  can  be  seen 
by  the  following  letter  : — 

Devonshire  Terrace, 

Thirteenth  June,  1848. 

My  dear  Browne, — A  thousand  thanks  for  the 
Dombey  sketches,  which  I  shall  preserve  and  trans- 
mit as  heirlooms. 

This  afternoon,  or  Thursday,  I  shall  be  near  the 
whereabout  of  the  boy  in  the  flannel  gown,  and 
will  pay  him  an  affectionate  visit.  But  I  warn  you, 
now  and  beforehand  (and  this  is  final  you'll  observe). 


-«**'^"s,- 


/im^C^U    m^^U    ^^f'"'^^  ^*^^*^^  0^  AoT- ^in^ 
h^^y^  /^^    ^4^   ouu^   ct^-^^co^i-fy^  <u^ccl> 

Ju  a  yK4y*\^''^i^ii.''^       />»l<^  '^^7^   ^^^^^7^ 
SauC^     ^1^      f    /^  ^  ^^^^    ^^Cie/Cc<^ 


DICKENS   AND    HIS    ILLUSTRATORS    89 

that  you  are  not  a-going  to  back  out  of  the  pigmental 
finishing  of  said  boy,  for  if  ever  I  had  a  boy  of  my 
own,  that  boy  is 

MINE! 

and,  as  the  Demon  says  at  the  Surrey, 

I  CLAIM  MY  VICTIM. 
HA!    HA!    HA! 

at  which  you  will  imagine  me  going  down  a  sul- 
phurous trap,  with  the  boy  in  my  grasp — and  you 
will  please  not  to  imagine  him  merely  in  my  grasp, 
but  to  hand  him  over. 

For  which  this  is  your  warrant  and  requirement. 

(Signed)  Charles  Dickens. 

Witness:  William  Topping, 
his  groom. 


CHAPTER   VI 

THE    REPUTED   ORIGINALS   OF    SOME    DICKENS 

CHARACTERS 

Among  the  minor  celebrities  whom  I  ought  to 
mention  are  Samuel  Carter  Hall  and  Anna  Maria, 
his  wife.  They  were  connecting  links  between  art 
and  literature.  He  was  the  Editor  of  the  Art  Journal ^ 
an  excellent  illustrated  periodical.  Each  number 
had  three  line-engravings,  sundry  woodcuts,  be- 
sides letterpress.  Amongst  other  things  they  pub- 
lished engravings  of  a  considerable  number  of 
Turner's  best  pictures.  Jointly  the  Halls  produced 
a  big  book  on  Ireland,  its  people,  scenery,  and 
characters.  It  was  lavishly  illustrated  ;  I  believe 
my  father  had  something  to  do  with  it,  but  I  can- 
not clearly  remember  how  much.  Although  he  was 
the  figure-head,  she  was  supposed  to  carry  the 
brains.  In  later  times  he  had  fictitious  celebrity 
on  account  of  being  the  reputed  model  for  Pecksniff. 
It  is  true  he  did  affect  that  mild  and  persuasive 
piety  that  is  imputed  to  the  character,  but  the  re- 
semblance went  no  farther.  We  must  remember 
Dickens'  uncomfortable  trick  of  compounding  his 


go 


/ 


#^" 


"WINE." 

J)fs/^n  ill  inf  c/ml/c/or  a  dnorathv panel  oil  a  sidchoard —one  of  n  pair 
'J7ie  ot/ti-r  represents  "  Water."     Reduced  from  \o\  in.    X  (sin. 


SOME   DICKENS   CHARACTERS       91 

characters  from  more  than  one  original,  and  it  must 
not  be  supposed  that  Hall  resembled  Pecksniff  in 
anything  but  an  unctuous  manner  and  a  godly  way 
of  speech.  Pecksniff  was  before  all  things  a  sneak- 
ing, contriving  villain,  hiding  his  wickedness  under 
an  appearance  of  godliness  and  high  morality.  There 
was  no  reason  to  suppose  that  Hall  was  anything 
but  what  he  seemed.  It  was  the  fashion  of  the 
time  to  be  pious,  and  to  let  your  piety  be  known. 
Hall  was  only  a  rather  more  brilliant  performer  in 
an  art  which  had  many  professors.  Among  the 
general  public  Hall  was  probably  accepted  at  his  own 
valuation,  but  literary  men  generally,  from  Moliere 
downwards,  have  been  suspicious  and  intolerant 
of  any  kind  of  hypocrisy  ;  they  are  not  allured,  but 
repelled.  This  is  illustrated  by  Tom  Hood  in  his 
Ode  to  Rae  Wilson,  where  the  groom,  speaking  of 
the  overreaching  nature  of  a  man  who  was  trying 
to  sell  a  house,  says  : 

"  He  axed  sure/y  a  sum  prodigious, 
And  drove  a  bargain  precious  hard, 
But  being  so  particularly  religious, 
Why,  that,  you  see,  put  Master  on  his  guard." 

Although  Hall  happened  to  exhibit  the  means  of 
hiding  a  villainous  nature,  it  does  not  necessarily 
follow   that    he    had    a   villainous    nature    to   hide. 


92  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

Dickens  undoubtedly  had  a  genuine  dislike  for  his 
ways.  Probably  his  connection  with  art  was  the 
occult  reason  why  Mr.  Pecksniff  happened  to  be  an 
architect,  and  he  was  moved  to  the  neighbourhood 
of  Salisbury  to  cover  up  the  trail,  for  assuredly 
there  was  not  the  slightest  reason  given  why  he  was 
placed  there  ;  indeed,  it  seems  an  inconvenient 
and  unpropitious  place  for  an  architect,  and  especi- 
ally inconvenient  for  the  assemblage  of  relations 
of  whom  we  have  a  transient  glimpse  in  the  open- 
ing chapters. 

I  saw  S.  C.  Hall  a  good  many  years  after  the  pub- 
lication of  Chuzzlewit ;  he  then  appeared  to  be  a 
benevolent,  kindly,  white-haired  old  gentleman,  pro- 
foundly interested  in  Spiritualism.  It  was  at  a 
seance,  whereto  a  considerable  company  was  invited 
to  witness  the  doings  of  a  man  (a  medium)  and  a  boy 
and  girl  (subjects),  humbugs  all  three.  Hall  seemed 
to  me  one  of  the  most  credulous  of  the  party,  and 
swallowed  any  bait  that  was  cast  before  him.  The 
performance  was  of  a  low  type,  consisting  of  tricks 
that  could  have  been  performed  in  a  show  at  a  fair. 
The  girl  assumed  a  cataleptic  rigidity,  and  defied 
the  efforts  of  strong  men  to  bind  her  limbs.  She 
also  raised  a  stout  man  in  an  arm-chair  from  the 
ground.  Under  various  guises  these  tricks  have 
been  seen  before  and  since,  and  their  success  some- 


SOME   DICKENS   CHARACTERS        93 

times  said  to  be  due  to  electricity  or  animal  magne- 
tism, well-known  causes  of  the  miraculous  when 
spiritual  influence  runs  short.  The  boy  was  strongly 
magnetic,  and  was  said  to  be  greatly  affected  by 
metals.  When  he  was  told  to  touch  the  brass  handle 
of  a  door,  he  shied  and  whimpered,  and  betrayed 
intense  reluctance  to  go  near  it.  Being  violently 
scolded  by  the  man,  with  many  contortions  he 
shuffled  across  the  room,  and  was  finally  made  to 
touch  the  door  handle  with  the  tips  of  his  fingers. 
At  the  moment  of  contact  he  was  thrown  violently 
back,  and  fell  on  the  floor  in  a  sort  of  epileptic  fit. 
Then  occurred  a  unrehearsed  incident.  He  seated 
himself  on  the  corner  of  a  sofa  in  a  sulky  attitude. 
An  old  gentleman  who  had  shown  a  lively  interest 
in  his  proceedings  sat  down  by  him,  and  set  to 
work  to  feel  his  head.  Suddenly  there  was  a  yell 
of  terror,  a  snarl,  a  struggle,  the  boy  had  turned, 
and  was  seen  to  be  busily  engaged  in  throttling  his 
tormentor.  He  was  dragged  off,  and  the  old  gentle- 
man, as  soon  as  he  could  recover  a  little  breath, 
exclaimed  with  great  satisfaction,  "  I  must  have 
touched  the  bump  of  combativeness."  The  boy  did 
not  smile,  but  he  had  evidently  enjoyed  his  triumph, 
and  as  he  was  obviously  acting  under  spiritual  in- 
fluence, he  was  admired,  and  even  the  old  phren- 
ologist was  gratified. 


94  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

Those  were  the  days  of  table-turning,  when 
people  asked  their  friends  to  dinner,  and  passed 
the  evening  furniture  moving.  The  spirits  had 
many  a  lively  evening,  but  tables  have  since  then 
quieted  down  under  the  mundane  influence  of 
*'  bridge."  But  to  believe  in  spiritual  agencies  play- 
ing foolish  pranks  under  the  guidance  of  a  third- 
rate  conjurer  is  certainly  not  in  any  sense  of  the  word 
wicked,  and  Hall's  amiable  weakness  is  not  men- 
tioned in  connection  with  Pecksniff,  but  it  must 
be  owned  that  there  was  no  special  characteristic 
about  Pecksniff  clearly  identifying  him  with  Hall. 
A  reader  who  knew  Hall  might  read  the  account  of 
Pecksniff  without  suspecting  the  source  of  his  origin, 
so  no  one  could  have  any  cause  for  grievance. 

But  it  was  different  in  the  case  of  Leigh  Hunt, 
whom  Dickens  confessedly  used  as  a  model  for  Harold 
Skimpole  in  Bleak  House.  He  was,  besides  being 
Editor  of  the  Examiner^  a  poet  and  pleasant  essayist, 
a  great  supporter  of  Keats,  and  though  he  might 
appear  to  be  nothing  greater  than  a  literary  man 
with  elegant  tastes,  there  was  in  him  an  underlying 
vein  of  seriousness  sufficiently  deep  to  get  him 
into  trouble.  He  was  imprisoned  for  two  years  on 
account  of  libelling  or  defaming  the  character  of 
the  Prince  Regent.  Though  technically  amenable 
to  the  law,  public  sympathy  was  on  his  side,  and 


SOME   DICKENS    CHARACTERS        95 

in  the  present  day  he  would  properly  be  considered 
an  upholder  of  morality.  Thackeray,  a  few  years 
later,  expressed  the  same  sort  of  view  of  the  same 
exalted  personage  with  full  approbation  of  every- 
body. Hunt  was  a  kind  of  Socialist,  and  like  many 
of  the  species,  had  a  convenient  notion  that  it  was  only 
right  and  proper  that  those  who  were  better  off  than 
himself  should  supply  his  needs  when  he  was  in 
low  water,  and  as  high  tide  very  seldom  occurred, 
he  had  not  the  opportunity  of  testing  the  truth  of 
his  theory  by  applying  it  in  an  opposite  direction. 
His  manner  of  living  and  speaking  is  amusingly 
caricatured  in  Skimpole,  and  not  altogether  un- 
truthfully, but  unfortunately  he  is  made  at  the  same 
time  to  appear  as  an  unscrupulous  man,  hiding  his 
irregularities  under  an  affectation  of  childishness. 
The  idea  that  Skimpole  was  intended  as  a  portrait 
of  Leigh  Hunt  got  abroad  at  a  very  early  date,  and 
circulated  as  a  bit  of  mischievous  gossip,  even  before 
the  number  in  which  he  first  appears  was  published, 
and  so  well  was  the  imitation  executed,  that  Forster 
and  Barry  Cornwall  saw  a  resemblance,  and  solemnly 
warned  Dickens  of  the  danger  he  was  running. 

But  Hunt,  however  irresponsibly  he  might  talk, 
would  not  have  covered  a  bad  action  by  persi- 
flage. He  would  never  have  taken  a  bribe  from  a 
scheming    attorney,    nor    would    he    have    behaved 


96  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

inhumanly  towards  a  poor  castaway  like  "Jo,"  as 
Skimpole  did.  A  man  who  had  gone  into  prison 
for  conscience'  sake  had  surely  a  strong  hold  on  the 
distinction  between  right  and  wrong.  Dickens  was 
warned  of  the  trouble  that  was  likely  to  arise,  and  it 
seems  strange  that  he  did  not  entirely  suppress  the 
objectionable  parts  of  the  character.  It  was  no 
unusual  thing  for  him  to  have  a  carefully  worked 
out  amusing  character  who  had  no  particular 
connection  with  the  plot,  and  Skimpole  might  have 
been  paired  off  against  Mrs.  Jellaby  as  living  con- 
tentedly in  a  prodigious  muddle,  in  contrast  to  the 
orderliness  of  Bleak  House,  or  the  formality  of  Ches- 
ney  Wold,  and  no  great  harm  would  have  been  done. 
Dickens,  however,  clung  obstinately  to  the  objection- 
able character  he  had  originally  compounded,  and 
when  he  found  that  Hunt  was  naturally  hurt  and 
offended,  he  was  obliged  to  apologise,  but  he  did  so 
reluctantly.  But  it  is  radically  a  faulty  method  to  in- 
graft the  traits  that  belong  to  an  artificial  character  on 
to  one  that  is  natural.  However  inconsistent  a  man's 
actions  may  be,  he  is  always  himself,  and  not  some- 
times another  person.  Skimpole  in  his  way  was  a 
humbug,  a  cheerful  humbug,  and  the  light  and  airy 
way  in  which  he  describes  his  pleasure  in  the  sunshine, 
fruit,  and  wine  is  certainly  entertaining,  and  without 
offence  might  have  been  allowed  as  bearing  a  resem- 


SOME   DICKENS   CHARACTERS         97 

blance  to  the  harmless  affectations  of  a  poetic  genius. 
But  you  cannot  invite  a  reader  to  separate  character- 
istics which  are  harmless  and  genuine  from  those 
which  are  fictitious  and  detestable.  We  scarcely 
need  Dickens'  disclaimer  that  he  intended  no  harm, 
but  he  certainly  was  betrayed  into  doing  a  wrong 
both  to  his  model  and  to  the  character  he  intended 
to  portray.  He  evidently  was  under  the  impression 
that  he  had  altered  some  of  the  marks  of  likeness, 
for  he  writes  to  Forster,  "  Browne  has  done  Skim- 
pole,  and  helped  to  make  him  singularly  unlike  the 
great  original."  The  matter  will  be  made  clearer 
by  quotation  from  Esther's  narrative.  Mr.  Jarndyce, 
with  Esther  and  Ada,  call  on  Mr.  Skimpole  at  his 
residence  in  the  Polygon,  Somers  Town.  Esther 
describes  the  scene  as  follows  : — 

*'  We  went  upstairs  to  the  first  floor,  still  seeing 
no  other  furniture  than  the  dirty  footprints.  Mr. 
Jarndyce,  without  further  ceremony,  entered  a  room 
there,  and  we  followed.  It  was  dingy  enough,  and 
not  at  all  clean,  but  furnished  with  an  odd  kind 
of  shabby  luxury,  with  a  large  footstool,  a  sofa, 
plenty  of  cushions,  an  easy-chair,  and  plenty  of 
pillows,  a  piano,  books,  drawing  materials,  music, 
newspapers,  and  a  few  sketches  and  pictures.  A 
broken  pane  of  glass  in  one  of  the  dirty  windows 
was  papered  and  wafered  over  ;    but  there  was  a 


98  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

little  plate  of  hothouse  nectarines  on  the  table, 
and  there  was  another  of  grapes,  and  another  of 
sponge  cakes,  and  there  was  a  bottle  of  light  wine. 
Mr.  Skimpole  himself  reclined  upon  a  sofa  in  a 
dressing-gown,  drinking  some  fragrant  coffee  from 
an  old  china  cup — it  was  then  about  mid-day — and 
looking  at  a  collection  of  wallflowers  in  the  balcony. 
He  was  not  in  the  least  disconcerted  by  our  appear- 
ance, but  rose  and  received  us  in  his  usual  airy 
manner.  '  Here  I  am,  you  see  !  '  he  said  when 
we  were  seated  ;  not  without  some  little  difficulty, 
the  greater  part  of  the  chairs  being  broken.  '  Here 
I  am  !  This  is  my  frugal  breakfast.  Some  men 
want  legs  of  beef  and  mutton  for  breakfast  ;  I  don't. 
Give  me  my  peach,  my  cup  of  coffee,  and  my 
claret ;  I  am  content.  I  don't  want  them  for 
themselves,  but  they  remind  me  of  the  sun.  There's 
nothing  solar  about  legs  of  beef  and  mutton.  Mere 
animal  satisfaction  !  '  *  This  is  our  friend's  con- 
sulting room  (or  would  be,  if  ever  he  prescribed), 
his  sanctum,  his  studio,'  said  my  guardian  to  us. 
*  Yes,'  said  Mr.  Skimpole,  turning  his  bright  face 
about,  '  this  is  the  bird's  cage.  This  is  where  the 
bird  lives  and  sings.  They  pluck  his  feathers  now 
and  then,  and  clip  his  wings  ;  but  he  sings,  he 
sings  !  ' 

"  He  handed  us  the  grapes,  repeating  in  his  radiant 


SOME   DICKENS   CHARACTERS         99 

way,  '  He  sings  ;  not  an  ambitious  note,  but  still 
he  sings.'  '  These  are  very  fine,'  said  my  guardian. 
'  A  present  ?  '  '  No,'  he  answered.  *  No  !  Some 
amiable  gardener  sells  them.  His  man  wanted  to 
know,  when  he  brought  them  last  evening,  whether 
he  should  wait  for  the  money.  "  Really,  my  friend," 
I  said,  **  I  think  not — if  your  time  is  of  any  value  to 
you."     I  suppose  it  was,  for  he  went  away.'  " 

This  is  undeniably  Leigh  Hunt,  and  there  is  no 
great  offence  in  it. 

The  second  extract  tells  how  "Jo,"  the  outcast, 
has  been  found  sick  and  weary  with  wandering. 
Esther  takes  him  home,  and  shows  him  to  Mr. 
Jarndyce  and  Harold  Skimpole. 

"  *  This  is  a  sorrowful  case,'  said  my  guardian, 
after  asking  him  a  question  or  two,  and  touching 
him,  and  examining  his  eyes.  *  What  do  you  say, 
Leonard  ?  '  '  You  had  better  turn  him  out,'  said 
Mr.  Skimpole.  '  What  do  you  mean  ?  '  enquired 
my  guardian  almost  sternly.  '  My  dear  Jarndyce,' 
said  Mr.  Skimpole,  '  you  know  what  I  am  :  I  am 
a  child.  Be  cross  to  me  if  I  deserve  it.  But  I  have 
a  constitutional  objection  to  this  sort  of  thing.  I 
always  had,  when  I  was  a  medical  man.  He's  not 
safe,  you  know.  There's  a  very  bad  sort  of  fever 
about  him.'  Mr.  Skimpole  had  retreated  from 
the  hall  to  the  drawing-room  again,  and  said  this 


100  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

in  his  airy  way,  seated  on  the  music-stool  as  we 
stood  by.  *  You'll  say  it's  childish,'  observed 
Mr.  Skimpole,  looking  gaily  at  us.  *  Well,  I  dare 
say  it  may  be  ;  but  I  am  a  child,  and  I  never  pretend 
to  be  anything  else.  If  you  put  him  out  in  the  road, 
you  only  put  him  where  he  was  before.  He  will  be 
no  worse  off  than  he  was,  you  know.  Even  make 
him  better  off,  if  you  like.  Give  him  sixpence, 
or  five  shillings,  or  five  pound  ten — you  are  arith- 
meticians, and  I  am  not — and  get  rid  of  him  !  '  '  And 
what  is  he  to  do  then  ?  '  asked  m}/^  guardian. 
*  Upon  my  life,'  said  Mr.  Skimpole,  shrugging  his 
shoulders  with  his  engaging  smile,  '  I  have  not  the 
least  idea  what  he  is  to  do  then.  But  I  have  no 
doubt  he'll  do  it.' " 

This  also  is  the  voice  of  Harold  Skimpole,  but 
the  character  is  completely  altered,  and  certainly 
very  unlike  Leigh  Hunt,  and  a  serious  reflection 
upon  any  man's  humanity. 

The  third  extract  shows  how  the  detective  engaged 
in  investigating  Mr.  Tulkinghorn's  murder  con- 
trived to  get  hold  of  "Jo,"  who  has  been  put  to 
bed  in  the  loft. 

*'  *  He's  a  queer  bird  is  Harold,'  said  Mr.  Bucket, 
eyeing  me  with  great  expression.  '  He  is  a  singular 
character,'  said  I.  *  No  idea  of  money,'  observed 
Mr.  Bucket — '  he  takes  it  though  !  '     I  involuntarily 


SOME   DICKENS   CHARACTERS       loi 

returned  for  answer,  that  I  perceived  Mr.  Bucket 
knew  him.  '  Why,  now,  I'll  tell  you.  Miss  Summer- 
son,'  he  rejoined.  '  Your  mind  will  be  all  the  better 
for  not  running  on  one  point  too  continually,  and  I'll 
tell  you  for  a  change.  It  was  him  as  pointed  out 
to  me  where  Toughey  was.  I  made  up  my  mind, 
that  night,  to  come  to  the  door  and  ask  for  Toughey, 
if  that  was  all  ;  but  willing  to  try  a  move  or  so  at 
first,  if  any  such  was  on  the  board,  I  just  pitched 
up  a  morsel  of  gravel  at  that  window  where  I  saw  a 
shadow.  As  soon  as  Harold  opens  it  and  I  have  had 
a  look  at  him,  thinks  I,  you're  the  man  for  me. 
So  I  smoothed  him  down  a  bit,  about  not  wanting 
to  disturb  the  family  after  they  were  gone  to  bed, 
and  about  its  being  a  thing  to  be  regretted  that 
charitable  young  ladies  should  harbour  vagrants  ; 
and  then,  when  I  pretty  well  understood  his  ways, 
I  said  I  should  consider  a  fypunnote  well  bestowed 
if  I  could  relieve  the  premises  of  Toughey  without 
causing  any  noise  or  trouble.  Then  says  he,  lifting 
up  his  eyebrows  in  the  gayest  way,  '  It's  no  use 
mentioning  a  fypunnote  to  me,  my  friend,  because 
I'm  a  mere  child  in  such  matters,  and  have  no  idea 
of  money.'  Of  course  I  understood  what  his  taking 
it  so  easy  meant  ;  and  being  now  quite  sure  he  was 
the  man  for  me,  I  wrapped  the  note  round  a  little 
stone  and  threw  it  up  to  him.    Well  !     He  laughs 


102  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

and  beams,  and  looks  as  innocent  as  you  like,  and 
says,  '  But  I  don't  know  the  value  of  these  things. 
What  am  I  to  do  with  this  ?  '  '  Spend  it,  Sir,' 
said  I.  '  But  I  shall  be  taken  in,'  he  says,  '  they 
won't  give  me  the  right  change,  I  shall  lose  it,  it's 
no  use  to  me.'  Lord,  you  never  saw  such  a  face 
as  he  carried  with  it  !  Of  course  he  told  me  where 
to  find  Toughey,  and  I  found  him.'  " 

This  is  also  Harold  Skimpole,  and  not  Leigh  Hunt. 

The  Leigh  Hunt  episode  was  familiarly  known 
to  the  whole  of  the  inner  circle,  which  was  generally 
well  informed  on  all  matters  of  the  kind.  London 
was  a  comparatively  small  town,  and  those  who  were 
engaged  in  the  business  of  amusing  the  public, 
however  they  might  hold  themselves  aloof,  lived  in 
a  ring  fence,  and  were  continually  in  touch  with  one 
another.  News  spread  mysteriously,  as  it  is  said 
to  do  amongst  the  Indians,  but  we  must  remember 
that  there  was  a  constant  intercommunication  be- 
tween authors,  artists,  engravers,  printers,  and  the 
like,  and  anything  interesting  was  continually  carried 
to  and  fro  by  a  mob  of  subordinates.  What  we  did 
not  learn  from  these  sources  was  sure  to  be  filtered 
to  us  through  Robert  Young,  who  was  personally 
in  constant  communication  with  a  great  variety  of 
people. 

The     affair    was     much    more    widely    known 


SOME   DICKENS   CHARACTERS       103 

than  Forster  would  lead  us  to  suppose,  and  the 
general  opinion  was  strongly  in  favour  of  Hunt. 
Dickens,  however,  was  supposed  to  have  done  his 
best  to  have  put  matters  right.  It  was  a  case  for 
radical  measures,  and  Dickens  only  tried  palliation. 
After  owning  that  Hunt  was  the  great  original,  and 
thereby  settling  the  matter,  he  tried  to  persuade 
himself  that  it  was  equally  fitting  to  50,000  other 
people,  which,  as  Euclid  wisely  observes,  is  absurd. 
After  successfully  making  Hunt's  airy  manner  exactly 
fit  Skimpole,  he  took  great  pains  to  destroy  the  like- 
ness, and  probably  by  taking  out  some  of  the  carica- 
ture left  the  reality  more  apparent.  He  says  that  he 
has  done  something  by  changing  the  name  Leonard 
to  that  of  Harold,  but  the  reader  will  notice  that 
the  original  name  still  remains  in  the  second  quota- 
tion, where  Mr.  Jarndyce  addresses  Skimpole  as 
Leonard,  thus  illustrating  the  incompleteness  of 
the  reconstruction. 

There  is  no  doubt  Dickens  floundered  and  failed 
to  extricate  himself.  The  episode  is  interesting  in 
supplying  a  little  light  on  Dickens'  method  of 
working  up  a  character.  Having  joined  two  in- 
compatible characters,  he  so  fused  and  welded  them 
by  the  fire  of  his  imagination  that  they  became 
one,  and  consequently  not  separable  again  to  him. 
He    regarded    his    characters,    however   oddly   they 


104  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

were  compounded,  as  realities,  and  could  not  take 
them  to  pieces  by  a  mere  effort  of  the  will.  There- 
fore it  was  impossible  for  him  to  subtract  the 
objectionable  features  of  Skimpole  without  affecting 
the  whole.  He  did  not  feel,  as  his  readers  certainly 
did,  that  the  light  and  airy  manner  of  Skimpole, 
assumed  for  the  purpose  of  veiling  his  chicanery, 
had  no  note  of  joyousness  in  it,  and  made  the  whole 
character  insincere  and  repellent.  It  was  only 
hypocrisy  under  another  name,  and  Skimpole  be- 
came an  inferior  Pecksniff.  But  his  readers  did 
not  possess  an  imagination  which  enabled  them  to 
separate  the  two  elements  in  the  character,  and 
Dickens  was  such  a  master  in  the  description  of  a 
certain  person,  that  all  the  qualities  described  would 
be  assumed  to  be  equally  true,  so  that  the  victim 
was,  as  it  were,  condemned  for  another  man's  sins, 
like  the  unfortunate  hero  in  the  Lyons^  Mail. 

In  the  case  of  Miss  Mowcher  {David  Copperfield)^ 
Dickens,  as  we  learn  on  the  authority  of  Forster, 
had  a  narrow  escape.  I  have  already  mentioned 
the  original  as  being  known  to  me  as  a  most  respect- 
able lady,  earning  her  living  in  the  honourable 
exercise  of  a  useful  calling,  but  distinguished  by 
certain  unmistakable  physical  peculiarities.  These 
being  described  by  Dickens  with  his  usual  accuracy 
and  detail,  served  as  an  infallible  means  of  identifica- 


SOME   DICKENS   CHARACTERS       105 

tion.  It  is  therefore  not  surprising  that  the  lady  wrote 
an  expostulation.  Forster  quotes  from  Dickens, 
*'  I  have  had  the  queerest  adventure  this  morning 
(28th  of  December  1849),  the  receipt  of  the  enclosed 
from  Miss  Mowcher  !  It  is  serio-comic,  but  there 
is  no  doubt  one  is  wrong  in  being  tempted  to  such 
a  use  of  power."  Forster  goes  on  to  say  that  Dickens 
was  shocked  at  discovering  the  pain  he  had  given, 
and  had  sent  assurances  to  the  complainant  that  he 
was  grieved  and  surprised  beyond  measure,  as  he 
had  not  intended  her  altogether,  but  all  his  characters 
being  made  up  out  of  many  people  were  composite, 
and  therefore  never  individual.  He  further  wrote 
to  Forster  "  That  he  had  intended  to  employ  the 
character  in  an  unpleasant  way,  but  he  would,  what- 
ever the  risk  or  inconvenience,  change  it  all,  so  that 
nothing  but  an  agreeable  impression  should  be 
left.  The  reader  will  remember  how  this  was  man- 
aged, and  that  the  thirty-second  chapter  went  far 
to  undo  what  the  twenty-second  had  done." 

But  supposing  ''  Miss  Mowcher  "  had  not  hap- 
pened to  see  the  chapter  twenty-second  on  its  first 
appearance,  the  character  might  have  been  described 
on  the  unpleasant  lines  only  too  plainly  intended, 
and  the  great  wrong  irretrievably  done. 


CHAPTER   VII 

THE  THEATRE:  MACREADY,  THE  KEANS, 
PHELPS  AND  SADLER'S  WELLS,  ROBSON, 
T.   P.    COOKE 

It  must  be  confessed  that  although  the  early  Victorians 
of  the  professional  class  led  blameless  lives,  they 
would  be  considered  dull  by  the  present  generation. 
There  were  not  the  numerous  theatres  which  now 
exist.  There  were  no  picturedromes  for  a  very 
good  reason,  and  practically  no  music  halls  that  a 
well-bred  person  would  put  his  nose  in.  Dining 
at  a  restaurant  was  almost  unknown,  week-ends 
were  not  invented.  Travel  beyond  the  degree  of 
a  walking  tour  was  only  for  the  rich  and  leisured. 
There  was  no  golf  except  on  Blackheath  or  in  Scot- 
land. Cards  were  played,  whist  predominating, 
though  various  gambling  games  were  by  no  means 
unknown.  Still  from  time  to  time  the  early  Vic- 
torian required  some  recreation  other  than  that 
afforded  by  the  domestic  hearth,  and  therefore 
occasionally  he  visited  the  theatre  in  a  critical  frame 

of  mind,  having  a  distinct  preference  for  the  legiti- 

1 06 


THE  THEATRE  107 

mate  drama,   and  a  clear  perception  how  certain 
characters  ought  to  be  played, 

Every  reader  of  Dickens'  Life  must  remember 
his  passionate  addiction  to  the  theatre,  and  his 
special  admiration  and  friendship  for  Macready. 
This  curious  man,  who  detested  his  profession, 
took  his  farewell  of  the  stage  in  1851.  My  father 
knew  him,  and  as  a  matter  of  compliment  went  to 
the  farewell  performance,  though  he  had  not  a  whole- 
hearted admiration  for  him  as  an  actor.  He  com- 
plained of  certain  mannerisms,  excessive  pauses,  and 
some  defects  in  delivery  which  he  evidently  disliked. 
It  is  only  fair  to  say  that  he  was  not  very  fond  of 
Shakespere  on  the  stage,  as  he  considered  a  perform- 
ance occasionally  destroyed  his  ideal.  He  was  a 
constant  reader  of  Shakespere,  and  had  a  curious  pre- 
ference for  Cymbeline,  which  he  called  the  poet's  play. 
Years  afterwards  this  opinion  was  confirmed  by  Mr. 
Swinburne,  a  poet,  if  ever  there  was  a  poet,  who  ends 
his  panegyric  on  the  bard  with  the  words,  "  The 
play  of  plays,  which  is  Cymheline''  This  shows 
that  Browne,  contrary  to  expectation,  was  more 
sensitive  to  the  poetic  than  the  dramatic  qualities 
of  the  works.  He  carried  a  volume  of  a  very  small 
edition  of  the  plays  in  his  waistcoat  pocket,  and  he 
continued  that  custom  until  a  week  or  so  of  his  death. 
I  was  too  young  to  have  seen  Macready,  but  I  have 


io8  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

a  remembrance  of  his  retirement  from  hearsay  and 
seeing  pictures  of  the  event  in  a  back  number  of  the 
Illustrated  London  News.  I  was  myself  a  reader 
of  Shakespere  from  a  very  early  age,  partly  incited 
thereto,  perhaps,  by  having  for  some  time  a  nurse 
who  was  named  Shakespere.  Some  of  our  friends 
(who  probably  also  belonged  to  the  circle  of  Mr. 
Peter  Magnus)  were  amused  by  hearing  a  small  child 
shouting  the  illustrious  name  up  the  nursery  stairs. 
I  also  had  the  opportunity,  which  I  commend  to  all 
parents,  of  a  free  run  of  Mr.  Knight's  excellent 
pictorial  edition,  the  illustrations  and  the  notes  to 
which  beguiled  me  into  the  knowledge  of  the  works 
almost  as  soon  as  I  could  read,  and  long  before  I 
could  comprehend  what  it  was  all  about. 

In  this  and  other  matters  my  father  was  not 
theoretically  an  educationist,  but  he  had  certain 
practical  ideas  which  were  excellent.  We  were  not 
forced  into  learning  to  read,  but  we  were  beguiled 
into  acquiring  the  art  because  we  found  it  was  worth 
while.  Later  on,  we  went  to  the  theatre  when  there 
was  anything  that  attracted  us.  Even  in  those  days 
there  was  a  late  train  back  to  Croydon.  Sometimes 
in  very  fine  weather  we  managed  the  transit  by  driv- 
ing. The  theatrical  centre  of  gravity  had  shifted 
from  Drury  Lane  to  the  Princess'  Theatre  in  Oxford 
Street,  and  the  leading  position  was  held  by  Charles, 


THE  THEATRE  109 

son  of  Edmund  Kean.  He  was  a  little  man,  with 
an  insignificant  nose  and  a  guttural  voice,  jerky  and 
undignified  in  his  action,  and  without  a  trace  of  the 
paternal  fire.  He  was  a  well-read  painstaking  man, 
and  if  scholarship  ever  contributed  anything  towards 
the  making  of  an  actor,  he  would  have  achieved 
a  distinguished  position.  He  knew  how  everything 
ought  to  be  acted,  but  fell  short  in  the  execution 
for  the  lack  of  emotional  power.  Still  he  played 
Shakesperean  parts  with  so  much  intelligence,  that  he 
must  be  counted  as  one  of  the  long  line  of  those  who 
have  kept  Shakespere  in  the  front  as  an  acting  author. 
But  his  best  parts  were  in  such  plays  as  the 
Corsican  Brothers  and  Louis  the  Eleventh.  His 
wife  was  a  really  excellent  actress,  with  a  fine 
contralto  voice  and  a  good  stage  presence,  albeit 
she  would  have  been  improved  by  a  little  banting ; 
but  she  was  exceedingly  skilful  in  concealing  her 
fulness  of  outline,  so  much  so,  that  she  actually 
succeeded  in  Hermione,  a  difficult  task,  as  though 
it  is  always  easy  to  pad  out  from  leanness,  a  re- 
duction in  circumference  involves  an  enormous 
amount  of  skill  in  cutting  and  contriving  garments 
so  as  to  deceive  the  eye.  Behind  the  scenes  she 
was  a  very  dragon  of  virtue,  and  ruled  her  little 
court  with  no  less  virginal  propriety  than  did 
Queen  Victoria  herself. 


no  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

Everything  was  splendidly  managed,  down  to  the 
parting  of  the  hair  of  the  meanest  super,  and  Kean 
issued  playbills  (now  called  programmes)  containing 
historical  and  archaeological  hints  and  statements  of 
why  he  had  chosen  particular  costumes  and  special 
architectural  features  and  no  others,  so  that  alto- 
gether there  was  a  certain  solemnity  and  respon- 
sibility which  made  a  visit  to  the  Princess's  a  serious 
matter,  like  going  to  the  Frangais  ;  when  we  laughed 
we  laughed  decorously,  as  we  would  at  a  dinner 
party,  and  we  never  forgot  our  manners. 

The  first  play  I  remember  was  Twelfth  Night, 
which  I  have  reason  to  believe  was  admirably 
played.  I  was  very  well  acquainted  with  the  text, 
and  was  delighted  by  seeing  the  characters  actually 
living  and  moving.  Afterwards  Charles  Kean 
began  a  series  of  revivals,  in  which  archaeology, 
tailoring,  and  stage  carpentry  were  brought  to  a 
perfection  never  before  seen.  Macbeth ,  Richard  II, 
The  Tempest,  Henry  VIII,  and  other  plays  were 
magnificently  mounted,  and  attracted  enormous 
audiences. 

In  this  connection  I  may  refer  to  another  early 
Victorian  who  belonged  to  a  practical,  and  not  an 
artistic,  family,  but  who  strongly  influenced  me  in 
the  direction  of  the  poetic  drama.  I  was  sent  to 
school  at  Bruce  Castle,  Tottenham,  then  kept  by 


ARIIUU    IIII.L. 

/■'roiii  n  clinth  liraivhig  irctftiCi'd ), 


THE  THEATRE  iii 

Arthur  Hill,  brother  of  Rowland  Hill,  originator  of 
the  Penny  Postage.^ 

When  I  first  knew  him  he  was  an  elderly  man 
with  long  grey  hair,  and  possessed  of  great  activity 
of  mind  and  body  ;  he  devoted  an  enormous  amount 
of  attention  to  promoting  punctuality  throughout 
the  school.  I  am  not  sure  that  his  efforts  led  to  any 
permanent  results.  But  he  had  one  habit  which 
did  not  appear  on  the  prospectus,  of  continually 
learning  Shakespere  by  rote.  At  an  early  hour 
every  morning,  except  Sundays,  he  disappeared  by 
a  postern  gate  with  an  octavo  vokime  under  his  arm. 
He  reappeared  in  about  an  hour,  having  combined 
physical  exercise  with  his  lesson.  He  always  had 
three  plays  on  hand,  one  which  might  be  a  little 
forgotten,  another  in  a  state  of  perfection,  and  a 
third  which  was  beginning  to  be  prepared. 

On  certain  evenings  he  would  invite  any  of  us  who 
cared  to  come  into  the  drawing-room.  Placing  a 
volume  on  a  reading  desk  to  be  ready  in  case  of 
emergencies,  he  would  recite  to  us  (not  read)  for  an 
hour  or  so,  giving  all  the  characters,  stage  directions, 
and  necessary  explanations  as  he  went  along.  He 
used  to  enjoy  himself  thoroughly,  and  so  did  we. 

He  encouraged  us  to  perform  plays  on  our  own 
account,  and  we  had  a  kind  of  portable  proscenium 

^    Vide  infra. 


112  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

which  could  be  fitted  up  by  the  school  carpenter 
in  the  fives  court.  His  son,  Gray  Hill  (now  Sir 
John  Gray  Hill  of  Liverpool),  himself  an  excellent 
declamatory  actor,  was  stage  manager.  One  of  my 
brothers  and  myself  were  valued  as  scene  painters, 
and  produced  some  surprising  results  in  distemper. 

On  one  occasion  I  won  great  distinction  as  an 
actor.  I  think  the  play  was  called  Brutus ,  and 
I  had  to  enact  the  part  of  a  Roman  whose  wife 
had  been  massacred  behind  the  scenes.  I  had  to 
make  my  entrance  overcome  with  emotion,  exhort- 
ing my  fellow-citizens  to  share  my  grief.  My 
opening  words  were,  ''  Howl,  howl,  ye  men  of 
Rome."  As  I  was  pushed  on  to  the  stage  by 
the  prompter  or  some  other  friend,  I  was  not 
only  in  a  state  of  stage  fright  on  account  of  being 
close  to  the  audience,  and  painfully  conscious  of 
my  legs,  which  being  insufficiently  protected  by 
a  pair  of  housemaid's  stockings  filled  me  with 
a  sense  of  indelicacy,  so  that  I  visibly  shook 
from  head  to  foot,  in  spite  of  strenuous  efforts  to 
keep  steady.  After  the  performance,  when  I  was 
more  nearly  dead  than  alive,  a  lady  belonging  to 
the  family  asked  that  I  should  be  introduced  to  her, 
saying,  "  I  like  that  boy,  he  felt  his  part,  his  very 
legs  trembled." 

This  was  my  first  and  greatest  dramatic  triumph, 


THE   THEATRE  113 

but  it  was  bought  at  the  price  of  so  much  suffering, 
that  I  have  never  since  feh  the  slightest  desire  to 
shine  upon  any  stage. 

But  above  all,  some  of  us  who  desired,  on  Saturday 
nights,  were  allowed  to  go,  in  charge  of  Gray  Hill 
as  prefect,  to  the  performance  at  Sadler's  Wells. 
That  was  really  going  to  the  play  !  It  was  possible 
then  to  walk  from  Bruce  Castle  to  Islington  almost 
entirely  through  country,  and  we  walked  briskly  so 
as  to  be  well  against  the  pit  door  amongst  the  very 
earliest  arrivals  ;  and  then  with  our  blood  well 
warmed  with  healthy  exercise,  we  waited  with  perfect 
content  until  some  mysterious  being  drew  back  a 
bolt,  when  we  rushed  in  as  if  there  was  not  a  second 
to  spare,  to  take  up  our  places  on  the  front  row  of 
the  pit,  an  advantageous  and  much  coveted  position 
against  the  orchestra,  stalls  not  being  then  in  exist- 
ence. As  we  were  in  possession  of  a  few  halfpenny 
playbills  we  had  plenty  of  time  and  subject  for  con- 
versation before  the  curtain  rose,  and  we  were  re- 
warded with  an  excellent  all-round  performance  of 
a  Shakesperean  play. 

Phelps,  the  actor-manager,  was  a  good  all- 
round  tragedian  of  the  old-fashioned  elocutionary 
class,  with  a  mysterious  face,  and  small  twinkling 
eyes  and  a  stalwart  figure.  He  had  a  great 
intelligence    and    a    profound    knowledge    of    the 

H 


114  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

bard,  and  he  continued  to  produce  all  the  plays, 
and  not  merely  the  twelve,  that  Henry  Irving 
thought  were  all  that  were  playable  on  the  modern 
stage.  He  did  not  stop  to  consider  whether  a  play 
was  or  was  not  actable,  but  he  acted  it,  and  he  did 
not  trouble  about  scenery,  archaeology,  or  costume, 
and  therefore  one  play  cost  no  more  than  another. 
It  was  a  mere  question  of  rehearsals.  With  him  it 
was  the  words,  and  the  appropriate  actions  to  carry 
them  over  the  footlights,  that  mattered — the  rest  was 
only  leather  and  prunella  ;  and  if  the  leather  was 
a  bit  fissured  and  the  prunella  ragged,  we  cared 
not,  as  we  were  concentrated  on  the  bard  and  his 
prophet,  Phelps.  In  tragedy  he  was  good,  and 
though  he  somewhat  dragged  at  times,  he  was  gener- 
ally interesting  and  sometimes  moving,  as  in  the 
ending  of  Othello,  and  the  death  of  Lear. 

He  attracted  around  him  an  excellent  troupe. 
Amongst  the  men  I  only  remember  Mr.  Marston, 
the  ghost  in  Hamlet^  and  Mr.  Rae,  the  Polonius,  "  the 
rest  I  have  forgot."  One  night  this  last  must  have 
dressed  in  a  hurry,  for  though  he  wore  his  crimson 
tights  beneath  his  velvet  gaberdine,  he  had  only 
hastily  rolled  up  his  everyday  trousers,  and  that 
not  too  securely,  for  when  he  gave  his  valedictory 
advice  to  Laertes,  saying  impressively  "  costly  thy 
habit  as  thy  purse  can  buy,"  in  apparent  accompani- 


THE  THEATRE  115 

ment  to  the  words  the  left  trouser  leg  unfolded 
itself  and  descended,  so  that  he  presented  the  re- 
markable appearance  of  a  Danish  gentleman  with 
one  leg  crimson  like  a  flamingo,  and  the  other  in  a 
well-worn  and  muddy  grey  of  the  early  Victorian 
pedestrian.  Whether  Mr.  Rae  was  or  was  not  con- 
scious of  the  change  in  his  appearance,  the  speech 
had  to  be  delivered,  and  it  was  finished  to  the  in- 
expressible— I  flatter  myself  "  inexpressible  "  is  a 
good  word — delight  of  the  pit  and  the  gallery. 

Phelps  may  have  had  the  defects  of  his  tempera- 
ment in  tragedy,  but  in  high  comedy  he  was  most 
excellent. 

Bottom,  Falstaff,  Sir  Anthony  Absolute,  Sir  Per- 
tinax  Macsycophant  were  all  as  good  as  need  be,  and 
have  never  been  improved  on. 

The  actresses  were  more  frequently  changed  than 
the  men,  as  I  seem  to  remember  that  we  saw  Miss 
Glynn,  Miss  Atkinson,  Miss  Heath,  and  Miss  Herbert. 
I  think  they  all  played  at  other  theatres,  but  the  men 
were  to  all  intents  and  purposes  permanent. 

Phelps  himself  is  reported,  like  Mr.  Crummies, 
to  have  carried  the  tragedian  into  private  life,  and 
that  his  slow  stage  utterance  had  become  with  him 
second  nature.  This  was  especially  noticeable  when 
he  was  unfolding  a  humorous  idea,  as  his  funereal 
utterance  contrasted  very  funnily  with  the  jocosity. 


ii6  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

One  of  his  stories  which  lent  itself  to  imitation  was 
retailed  to  me,  to  the  following  effect,  with  a  tremen- 
dous and  indescribable  emphasis  on  the  vowel  sounds. 
"  I  was  standing  the  other  day,  after  rehearsal,  at 
the  side,  when,  looking  across,  who  should  I  see 
but  Herman  Vezin,  dressed  to  the  nines.  White 
hat,  if  you  please,  blue  tie,  white  waistcoat,  linen 
cuffs,  frockcoat,  grey  trousers  and  white  spats — 
quite  the  dandy — so  I  crossed  over  and  said,  *  How 
do  you  do,  Mr.  Vezin  ?  '  and  after  a  few  words 
of  ordinary  salutation,  I  said,  *  And  how  is  your 
excellent  father }  '  by  which  I  meant  to  imply 
that  I  had  ho  !  ho  !  ho  !  ho  !  that  I  had  ho  !  ho  ! 
ho  !  ho  !  mistaken  him  for  his  own  son  ho  !  ho  ! 
ho!    ho!" 

He  never  succeeded  rightly  in  the  West  End, 
though  he  was  selected  to  play  at  Drury  Lane 
before  some  foreign  potentate  as  the  typical  English 
tragedian.  With  the  dispersion  of  his  company 
the  old  style  of  acting  vanished  from  the  stage.  He 
was  probably  the  last  actor  who  rested  on  the  Shake- 
sperean  tradition,  and  gave  us  the  play  as  it  had  been 
handed  down  from  generation  to  generation.  He 
would  not  have  astonished  Charles  Lamb,  as  some 
of  our  modern  tragedians  with  their  naturalism 
certainly  would. 

Whatever  he  might  play  on  other  nights,  he  al- 


THE   THEATRE  117 

ways  played  the  bard  on  Saturdays  and  Mondays, 
so  that  anyone  going  on  those  nights  might  go  in 
confidence  that  he  would  certainly  know  the  author, 
and  might  even  guess  the  play  without  looking 
in  the  paper.  After  I  became  a  medical  student 
I  occasionally  allowed  myself  a  night  off,  and  went 
with  unabated  enjoyment. 

I  fancy  Sadler's  Wells  is  now  demolished,  but  I 
doubt  if  there  is  any  public  memorial  of  the  man 
who  so  finely  accomplished  this  great  task. 

In  that  part  of  the  Strand  which  lies  between 
St.  Mary-le- Strand  and  St.  Clement  Danes  there 
was  a  squalid  little  thoroughfare  called  Wych  Street, 
wherein  was  situated  a  grubby  little  theatre  called 
the  Olympic.  For  a  time  this  was  one  of  the  most 
popular  playhouses  in  London,  owing  to  the  most 
remarkable  performances  of  an  actor  named  Robson. 
He  was  a  little  man,  with  a  pointed  nose  and  bird- 
like expression,  and  a  curious  slit  in  the  middle  of 
his  lower  lip.  His  limbs  were  very  small,  but  well 
proportioned  and  shapely.  He  was  nothing  of  a 
dwarf,  but  undeniably  grotesque,  and  therefore 
could  not  assume  romantic  parts.  He  was  of  all 
the  actors  of  his  time  the  one  most  undeniably 
possessed  of  genius.  He  could  vary  from  the  re- 
presentation of  homely  pathos  to  broad  farce,  like 
Mr.  Toole,  but  had  in  addition  very  short  flashes 


ii8  PHIZ  AND   DICKENS 

of  tragic  emotion  that  no  other  EngHsh  actor  has 
possessed  in  our  time.  He  could  hold  the  audience 
in  the  hollow  of  his  hand.  I  mentioned  this  once 
to  Irving,  and  he  said  that  Robson  possessed  the  rare 
gift  of  what  he  called  "  the  electric  thrill."  It  was 
always  of  short  duration  in  any  actor  ;  Kean  had 
it  for  a  minute  and  a  half,  Robson  only  for  thirty 
seconds,  and  when  it  was  over,  an  actor  either  had 
to  leave  the  stage,  or  to  turn  abruptly  to  some  other 
stage  business,  or  suffer  an  anti-climax.  Kean,  of 
course,  I  never  saw,  but  Robson  would  in  a  few 
short  moments  reduce  his  audience  to  tears,  and 
then  suddenly  throw  them  into  laughter. 

His  greatest  tragic  success  was  in  Daddy  Hard- 
acre^  an  adaptation  from  Moliere's  UAvare.  There 
was  one  scene  where  he  descends  to  the  cellar 
to  look  at  his  money,  finds  he  has  been  robbed, 
suspects  his  daughter,  rushes  at  her  storming, 
drags  her  about  the  stage  by  her  hair.  So  terrible 
was  this  scene  that  the  audience  almost  rose  at 
him,  yet  this  same  man  in  the  concluding  farce 
could  dance  about  on  the  stage,  and  provoke  the 
whole  house  to  laughter  by  his  fooling.  He  had  also 
something  of  the  same  effect  on  the  actors  on  the 
stage.  As  he  by  no  means  confined  himself  to  the 
text,  there  were  often  some  curious  whimsicalities 
introduced,  and  as  they  were  unexpected  by  the  other 


J" 


<  I 

<  - 
1-1    S 


THE   THEATRE  119 

actors,  upset  the  progress  of  the  play.  He  exercised 
a  particular  magnetic  effect  on  Miss  Herbert,  an 
excellent  actress,  and  I  have  seen  him  literally  drive 
her  into  hysterics  by  his  oddities. 

When  Charles  Kean  left  the  Princess'  the  Shake- 
sperean  repertory  was  continued  by  Fechter.  He 
was  a  man  of  mixed  nationalities,  but  more  a  French- 
man than  anything  else,  and  had  a  good  reputation 
as  a  romantic  actor  in  Paris.  Greatly  daring,  he 
took  the  Princess'  in  order  to  play  Hamlet  in  English. 
Remember  that  the  tradition  of  fine  Shakesperean 
acting  was  not  forgotten,  though  it  had  nearly  died 
out,  and  you  can  easily  imagine  the  incredulity  and 
derision  that  his  proposal  excited.  As  a  matter 
of  fact  he  could  only  speak  English  imperfectly, 
with  slips  in  accent  and  intonation,  but  he  was  a 
thoroughly  trained  actor,  and  could  deliver  lines 
in  any  language  he  chose.  He  was  coached  in  the 
play  by  the  Rev.  J.  C.  M.  Bellew,  the  best  declamatory 
reader  of  his  time. 

Fechter  conquered  by  sheer  charm ;  on  the  stage 
his  presence  was  beautiful,  every  action  grace.  He 
discarded  the  gloomy  tradition  of  the  old-fashioned 
Hamlets,  and  he  played  the  Dane,  as  he  naturally 
ought  to  be,  a  fair  man.  Off  the  stage,  he  was  by 
no  means  so  impressive. 

His  blank  verse  in  one  or  two  places  left  some- 


I20  PHIZ  AND   DICKENS 

thing  to  be  desired,  for,  after  all,  a  man's  accent 
will  creep  out.  But  apart  from  slight  defects  his 
delivery  of  the  great  soliloquies,  his  conversations 
and  badinage,  and  his  fencing  have  never  been 
equalled  for  romantic  beauty.  Hardened  old 
play  -  goers  were  utterly  dumbfounded.  Their 
most  cherished  traditions  were  upset,  but  they 
were  conquered  ;  the  old  box-keeper  was  reported 
to  have  said,  "  I  have  seen  a  many  Hamlets, 
and  all  of  them  different ;  I  have  seen  Mr.  Kean, 
he  made  it  tragedy,  but  Mr.  Fechter  he  has  raised 
it  to  Melodrama." 

Fechter  afterwards  tried  Othello,  but  failed.  He 
moved  into  the  Lyceum,  where  he  had  a  long  series 
of  triumphs  in  the  romantic  drama.  Associated 
with  him  was  Miss  Kate  Terry,  and  when  we  take 
into  account  the  disadvantage  on  the  stage  of  being 
only  a  man,  it  is  a  wonderful  testimony  to  his  force 
and  grace  and  charm,  that  she,  the  most  charming 
member  of  a  charming  family,  only  divided  and  did 
not  monopolise  the  attention  of  the  house.  They 
were  equally  matched  in  physical  perfections,  and 
in  subtlety  and  delicacy  in  the  expression  of  the 
ideal  side  of  love.  I  remember  one  scene,  though  I 
have  forgotten  the  play  ;  Fechter  the  hero  was  deeply 
in  love  with  Miss  Terry,  the  heroine,  but  was  un- 
certain of  her  feelings  towards  him.     In  the  course 


THE  THEATRE  121 

of  a  conversational  scene  he  placed  her  with  her 
back  towards  the  audience,  so  that  we  did  not  see 
her  face,  but  we  saw  his  ;  he  was  watching  her 
intently,  and  we  saw  by  his  expression  how  he  read 
her  mind — uncertainty,  fear,  hope,  a  gleam  of  happi- 
ness, questioning  of  the  truth,  joy,  rapturous  ecstasy 
as  he  threw  up  his  arms  and  said, "  Blanche,  you  love 
me,  good  gracious !  "  with  a  strong  foreign  accent  on 
the  gracious !  How  poor  the  words,  but  they  were 
the  dramatist,  it  was  the  actor  who  transformed 
them  with  an  expression  of  pure  emotion. 

Fechter  was  a  great  friend  of  Dickens,  who  was 
his  firm  supporter,  and  as  the  office  of  All  the  Year 
Round  was  nearly  opposite  the  Lyceum,  it  is  needless 
to  say  that  Dickens  was  constantly  in  the  theatre, 
and  his  opinion  of  the  two  may  be  gathered  from 
the  following  extract  from  a  letter  to  Macready, 
which  I  have  happened  on  since  the  above  lines 
were  written.  I  do  not  know  if  it  refers  to  the  same 
play,  but  the  general  truth  is  the  same. 

"  Office  of  '  All  the  Year  Round,' 
^^ February  ic)th,  1863. 

"  Fechter  doing  wonders  over  the  way  here  with 
a  picturesque  French  drama.  Miss  Kate  Terry,  in 
a  small  part  in  it,  perfectly  charming.  You  may 
remember  her  making  a  noise,  years  ago,  doing  a 


122  PHIZ  AND   DICKENS 

boy  at  an  inn,  in  The  Courier  oj  Lyons.  She  has 
a  tender  love  scene  in  this  piece,  which  is  a  really 
beautiful  and  artistic  thing.  I  saw  her  do  it  at  about 
three  in  the  morning  of  the  day  when  the  theatre 
opened,  surrounded  by  shavings  and  carpenters, 
and  (of  course)  with  that  inevitable  hammer  going  ; 
and  I  told  Fechter  :  '  That  is  the  very  best  piece  of 
womanly  tenderness  I  have  ever  seen  on  the  stage, 
and  you'll  find  that  no  audience  can  miss  it.'  It 
is  a  comfort  to  add  that  it  was  instantly  seized  upon, 
and  is  much  talked  of." 

I  never  remember  my  father  going  to  Sadler's 
Wells.  He  spoke  of  Phelps  as  a  small  Macready, 
and  the  theatre  was  on  the  opposite  side  of  London, 
and  not  very  accessible  from  where  we  lived.  He 
required  no  persuasion  to  go  to  Fechter,  and  he  de- 
lighted in  Robson.  We  were  occasionally  taken  to 
the  Haymarket  to  see  the  old  comedies,  such  as 
The  School  J  or  Scandal  ^  She  Stoops  to  Conquer,  and 
some  others.  Altogether  we  went  to  the  theatre 
some  four  or  five  times  a  year,  which  was  very 
frisky  for  early  Victorians. 

Of  course  these  were  not  the  only  theatres.  There 
were  others  which  did  not  happen  to  concern  us, 
but  there  were  two  deserving  of  mention  on  the 
Surrey  side  of  the  water,  close  to  Westminster  Bridge, 


THE   THEATRE  123 

one  called  simply  the  "  Surrey  Theatre."  Readers 
of  Lamb  will  remember  that  he  describes  it  as 
the  last  refuge  in  the  downward  progress  of  the 
great  Elliston,  who  even  here  did  not  lose  his  grand 
manner.  "  '  Quite  an  opera  pit,'  he  said  to  me  (Lamb) 
as  he  was  courteously  conducting  me  over  the  benches 
of  his  Surrey  Theatre,  the  last  retreat  and  recess 
of  his  everyday  waning  grandeur." 

Probably  here  for  a  time  the  legitimate  drama 
found  a  home  on  this  side  of  the  Thames,  whereon 
in  bygone  times  it  had  flourished.  But  the  days 
of  Victoria  were  not  those  of  Elizabeth,  and  despite 
the  "  opera  pit,"  the  theatre  became  celebrated  for 
melodrama. 

One  play  indeed  forecasted  the  long  runs  of  the 
present  day,  Black-Eyed  Siisan^  by  Douglas  Jerrold. 
In  this  the  hero  William  was  played  with  immense 
dash  and  vigour  by  Mr.  T.  P.  Cooke,  affectionately 
known  as  "  Tippy."  The  play  was  full  of  tears, 
nautical  expressions,  shivers,  frights,  scenes  of 
violence,  scenes  of  sentiment,  court-martials,  sen- 
tence of  death,  respite  and  a  happy  ending,  but  the 
great  feature,  although  merely  an  episode,  was  the 
vigorous  hornpipe  which  William  danced  in  his  few 
spare  moments.  It  was  one  of  those  popular  suc- 
cesses which  united  the  suffrages  of  all  classes. 
Douglas  Jerrold's  brains  and  "  Tippy  "  Cooke's  legs, 


124  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

with  the  smell  of  salt  water,  captured  the  British 
nation. 

Thackeray  assumes  him  to  be  familiar  to  all, 
and  uses  his  name  as  an  aid  to  a  description  thus, 
by  the  mouth  of  Pleeceman  X  : 

"  Vich  he  was  a  British  sailor, 
For  to  judge  him  by  his  look, 
Tarry  jacket,  canvas  trousers, 
Ha— la,  Mr.  T.  P.  Cook." 

Years  afterwards,  when  joints  had  stiffened  and 
hornpipes  were  impossible,  and  "  Tippy  "  had  re- 
tired, some  friends  called  upon  him  in  his  retreat 
in  Torrington  Square.  He  and  his  wife  were  seated, 
after  the  manner  of  old  people,  in  comfortable  arm- 
chairs, one  on  each  side  of  the  fire.  After  a  little 
conversation  about  old  times  and  things  in  general, 
somebody  asked  "  If  he  ever  played  now  ?  "  He  said 
"  No  !  "  Mrs.  Cooke  said  he  was  offered  an  engage- 
ment lately,  but  he  would  not  take  it — "  they  wanted 
him  to  play  an  old  man's  part.  But  bless  you, 
Tippy  couldn't  play  an  old  man's  part,  no  !  He 
could  not  play  an  old  man's  part  !  " 

Astley's  was  the  theatre  for  children.  It  was  a 
theatre  and  a  circus.  The  arena  occupied  a  great 
proportion  of  the  pit,  and  was  connected  with  the 
stage  by  sloping  boards.  The  dramas  were  peculiar, 
and  afforded  frequent  opportunities  for  horseman- 


THE   THEATRE  125 

ship.  Mazeppa  was  a  favourite  ;  he  was  bound 
on  the  wild  horse  in  the  arena,  rushed  up  the  slope 
on  to  the  stage,  was  seen  ascending  the  mountains 
by  a  zigzag  course.  Turpin  also  galloped  round 
the  ring,  leaped  five-barred  gates,  was  pursued,  but 
never  caught.  There  were  all  the  ordinary  features 
of  a  circus — ladies  in  short  skirts,  the  bold  gentle- 
man in  tights  who  rode  four  horses  abreast,  clowns, 
ring-master,  and  so  forth.  But,  after  all,  the  delight- 
ful feature  was  the  great  number  of  children  always 
to  be  seen  amongst  the  audience. 

Speaking  generally,  the  theatres  were  very  uncom- 
fortable. The  entrances  were  mostly  bad,  and  there 
was  a  crush  at  the  pay-place  as  the  first  rush  was 
made  for  the  pit.  The  custom  of  standing  in  a 
queue  was  not  adopted  till  many  years  after.  We 
should  now  consider  the  lighting  poor,  but  as  gas 
was  a  new  invention,  it  was  then  considered  brilliant. 
Even  as  late  as  181 2  Drury  Lane  would  seem  to  have 
been  lighted  by  candles,  as  the  poet  in  the  Rejected 
Addresses  sings — 

"  'Tis  sweet  to  view  from  half-past  five  to  six, 
Our  long  wax  candles  with  short  cotton  wicks, 
Touched  by  the  lamplighter's  Promethean  art, 
Start  into  light,  and  make  the  lighter  start." 

Scenery  was  very  poor,  and  changed  in  full  view 
of  the  audience  by  carpenters,  who  did  not  even 


126  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

take  the  trouble  to  hide  themselves.  In  some 
theatres  a  bit  of  the  stage  was  in  front  of  the  curtain 
flanked  on  each  side  by  the  stage  boxes.  In  the 
intervals  between  the  acts,  women  pushed  their 
way  along  the  benches  of  the  pit  crying  ginger- 
beer,  lemonade,  apples  and  oranges.  The  per- 
formance began  about  seven,  and  after  nine  o'clock 
admission  was  half  price.  The  ordinary  arrange- 
ment was  to  play  a  serious  piece,  preferably  in  five 
acts,  and  when  the  spirits  of  the  audience  were 
thoroughly  depressed,  a  rattling  farce  was  put  on  to 
raise  them  again.  There  were  no  problem  plays, 
everybody  having  a  firm  conviction — which  no 
amount  of  talking  would  have  altered — that  he  ought 
to  live  with  his  own  wife.  The  acting  of  the  prin- 
cipal performers  was  fully  as  good  as  anything  in 
the  present  day,  though  the  supers  were  all  badly 
dressed  and  badly  drilled,  and  as  the  actors  received 
but  little  assistance  from  their  scenery  or  costume, 
they  had  to  play  so  as  to  rivet  the  attention  of  the 
audience  steadily  throughout  the  play,  and  could 
not  aflTord  to  relax  their  efforts  during  the  display 
of  a  scenic  dawn  or  sunset.  On  special  occasions 
Royalty  attended  in  state  in  certain  theatres,  where 
there  was  a  Royal  Box  specially  fenced  off  from 
the  vulgar.  Of  course  this  was  all  stopped  at  the 
death  of  the  Prince  Consort. 


THE   THEATRE  127 

Incidentally  above,  I  have  mentioned  Mr.  Rowland 
Hill,  whom  I  occasionally  saw  when  I  was  at  his 
brother's  school.  Curiously  enough  he  comes  into 
connection  with  my  father  through  the  medium 
of  his  great  practical  reform.  I  am  not  sufficiently 
informed  to  be  able  to  state  what  provisions,  if 
any,  formerly  existed  for  the  prepayment  of 
letters,  but  the  postage  in  a  great  number  of 
cases  was  certainly  defrayed  by  the  recipient 
and  not  by  the  writer.  But  there  existed  a  very 
curious  custom  by  which  certain  great  personages, 
including  Members  of  Parliament,  could  send 
their  correspondence  through  the  post  by  the 
simple  act  of  writing  their  signature  on  the  outside 
of  the  letters.  Such  signatures  were  called  franks, 
and  were  in  great  demand.  Anyone  having  a  friend 
in  the  House  could  get  a  number  of  letters  "  franked  " 
in  advance,  and  embark  in  a  correspondence  at  the 
expense  of  the  State.  When  Rowland  Hill  insti- 
tuted his  reform  the  privilege  was  abolished,  but 
in  order  to  continue  the  custom  of  indicating  that 
a  letter  was  free  to  pass  through  the  post,  it  was 
determined  to  have  a  decoration  printed  on  the 
envelope  as  a  token  of  value  received. 

Artists  were  invited  to  send  in  designs,  and  one 
by  Mulready  was  selected.  It  was  allegorical  and 
symbolical,  and  more  than  sufficient  as  a  receipt  for 


128  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

a  penny,  but  it  left  very  little  room  for  the  address. 
The  opportunity  for  burlesque  was  too  good  to  be 
missed,  and  Leech  and  Browne  produced  parodies 
which  were  as  good  as  the  original,  but  though 
effective  as  designs,  were  not  recognisd  by  the  authori- 
ties as  valid  cash.  The  three  envelopes  were  shown 
at  the  Liverpool  Exhibition  of  H.  K.  Browne's  works 
by  Dr.  John  Newton. 

Leech  as  usual  was  funny ,  but  made  no  attempt 
to  reproduce  the  decorative  feeling  of  the  original, 
while  with  Phiz  the  feeling  for  the  pattern  pre- 
dominates, though  on  a  close  examination  the 
satirical  intention  is  easily  descried.  The  originals 
are  now  very  difficult  to  meet  with.  Trifling  in 
themselves,  they  mark  a  point  in  the  progress  of  a 
great  social  change. 


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CHAPTER   VIII 

AMUSEMENTS   OF   THE    POOR 

There  was  very  little  abject  poverty  in  Croydon. 
There  always  seemed  to  be  an  odd  job  for  anyone 
who  was  on  the  look-out  for  one  ;  machinery  scarcely 
existed  except  in  connection  with  the  railway  ;  but 
the  community  maintained  an  immense  number 
of  animals — horses,  cows,  pigs,  sheep,  poultry — 
which  required  constant  supervision  and  unrelaxing 
care  in  feeding.  At  certain  seasons  at  the  farms 
there  was  a  great  demand  for  extra  labour,  and  mobs 
of  people,  haymakers,  'oppers,  and  the  like,  descended 
from  distant  parts  on  to  the  fields,  and  departed 
like  flights  of  birds  no  one  knew  whither.  It  may 
be  supposed  that  life  was  intolerably  dull  and  there 
were  no  amusements,  but  the  people  found  means 
of  enjoying  themselves  at  various  stated  seasons 
by  the  observance  of  customary  ceremonies. 

About  Christmas  time  the  Waits  perambulated 
the  neighbourhood,  and  played  from  dusk  till  some 
time  after  midnight.  They  were  supposed  to  aflford 
a  very  pleasant  entertainment  if  the  household  were 

"9  T 


130  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

sitting  up,  and  it  was  not  etiquette  to  be  ruffled, 
even  if  the  trombone  was  a  little  blatant  and  one  had 
been  in  the  enjoyment  of  a  beauty  sleep.  The  only 
chance  of  mishap  lay  in  the  fact  that  hot  drinks 
were  offered  and  accepted,  and  occasionally  in  con- 
sequence the  music  became  confused  and  discordant. 
Then  there  were  carols  sung  by  the  younger  people, 
generally  of  the  poorer  sort,  but  sometimes  by  those 
who  were  well  off  for  a  joke. 

The  mummers,  too,  performed  according  to  ancient 
tradition  at  various  seasons.  They  consisted  of 
young  people,  who  were  dressed  in  home-made 
fancy  costumes,  of  divers  shapes  and  colours,  but 
invariably  decorated  by  strips  of  paper,  like  those 
used  for  making  the  tail  of  a  kite,  sewn  on  to 
garments  to  imitate  streamers.  Each  performer  in 
his  turn  would  step  forward  from  his  ranks  into 
the  range  of  a  light  from  a  lanthorn  held  by  a  com- 
rade. He  would  announce  his  name  and  qualities 
in  doggerel  before  joining  in  the  dialogue.  I  be- 
lieve the  plays  were  very  old  and  traditional,  and 
the  performers  did  not  at  all  understand  the  mean- 
ing of  what  they  were  doing. 

Good  Friday  was  especially  reserved  for  pedes- 
trianism,  and  walking  and  running  races  in  con- 
siderable number  were  run  off  in  different  districts. 
There   was    not   much   professionalism,    but   there 


AMUSEMENTS   OF   THE   POOR       131 

were  a  great  number  of  spectators,  and  voluntary 
subscription  took  the  place  of  gate-money. 

On  May-day  there  was  a  good  deal  of  fun 
going  in  the  early  part  of  the  day.  There  were 
processions  of"  Jack  in  the  Green,"  a  kind  of  walk- 
ing arbour  with  an  opening  in  the  leaves  just  suffi- 
ciently large  for  the  bearer  to  see  where  he  was 
going,  accompanied  by  a  troop  of  men  dressed  as 
sweeps,  and  girls  in  short  petticoats  as  shepherd- 
esses, many  carrying  ladles  to  collect  coppers. 
There  were  also  certain  clowns  who  were  masked, 
and  had  full  license  to  play  tricks  on  the  audience. 
In  the  afternoon  there  was  climbing  a  greasy  pole 
for  a  leg  of  mutton  and  various  sports,  including, 
if  my  memory  serves,  a  race  for  ladies,  who  ran  in 
a  garment  which  had  not  then  lost  its  English  name. 

Living  in  a  beautiful  country,  during  the  summer 
we  scarcely  needed  entertainments,  but  on  November 
the  fifth  there  was  the  tremendous  festival  of  Guy 
Fawkes.  In  those  days  Guys  really  were  guys. 
They  were  built  up,  by  earnest  labour,  of  old  clothes, 
or  appropriate  costumes  made  for  the  purpose, 
with  masks,  and,  speaking  generally,  they  presented 
the  appearance  of  human  beings  paralytic  from  drink 
— or  was  it  remorse  for  unrepented  and  unsuccessful 
crimes  ?  They  were  seated  in  chairs,  or  borne  in 
litters   round  the   town,  and  after  dark  they  were 


132  PHIZ    AND    DICKENS 

ignominiously  burnt  in  bonfires,  to  the  accompani- 
ment of  fireworks.  The  anniversary  was  considered 
by  many  good  judges  to  be  the  brightest  in  the 
year. 

The  veritable  Guy  Fawkes  was  forgotten  except 
in  name,  and  any  unpopular  persons  served  as 
foundation  for  the  effigy.  I  remember  at  one  time 
the  Pope  was  very  unpopular,  and  he  was  repre- 
sented, not  only  as  ruling  in  the  East  and  West,  but 
in  sufficient  numbers  to  have  boxed  the  whole 
compass.  But  no  matter  who  might  be  the  actual 
person  whose  effigy  paraded  the  streets,  he  was  ac- 
companied by  a  traditional  refrain,  sung  fortissimo, 
by  a  thousand  throats,  and  if  the  festival  were  not 
so  distinctly  Protestant,  I  should  say  to  a  Gregorian 
chant. 

"  Remember,  remember,  the  fifth  of  November, 
Gunpowder  treason  and  plot, 
I  see  no  reason  why  gunpowder  treason 
Should  ever  be  forgot," 

followed  by  inarticulate  shouting,  beating  of  frying- 
pans,  drums,  blowing  of  horns,  and  an  altogether 
mingled  uproar  calculated  to  strike  terror  into  the 
hearts  of  the  boldest  conspirator. 

Many  families  had  private  Guys.  Ours  never 
left  the  premises,  but  for  weeks  caused  us  great 
anxiety  lest  his  inflammability  should  suffer  from 


AMUSEMENTS   OF   THE  POOR       133 

rain.  We  swept  the  garden  clean  of  fallen  leaves, 
and  pilfered  stray  bits  of  wood.  We  amassed 
kitchen  grease,  and  begged  turpentine,  collected 
all  the  band-boxes  we  could  find,  and  piled  them 
up  into  an  immense  heap  in  the  kitchen  garden.  An 
old  suit  of  clothes,  with  a  shocking  bad  hat,  and  a 
mask  which  we  painted  ourselves  in  colours  which 
would  have  astonished  Rubens,  was  suspended  from 
the  stake,  and  was  duly  burnt.  We  generally  had 
a  good  supply  of  fireworks,  which  were  let  off  with 
the  aid  of  the  Governor  and  the  groom.  On  one 
occasion,  by  dint  of  economies,  we  had  purchased 
a  rocket  of  surpassing  splendour,  which  happened 
to  be  sold  us  separate  from  its  necessary  stick. 
The  Governor  and  his  assistant  tied  on  the  rocket, 
stuck  [the  stick  into  the  potato  field,  and  applied 
the  fuse.  But  they  had  placed  the  rocket  upside 
down,  and  when  it  was  fired,  it  seemed  to  utter 
a  shriek,  belched  forth  fire,  broke  the  stick,  and 
ran  about  the  garden,  pursuing  us  in  all  direc- 
tions like  a  fiery  fiend  endowed  with  supernatural 
vitality. 

But  the  real  great  festival  was  the  Croydon  Walnut 
Fair,  held  the  first  week  in  October,  on  a  large 
piece  of  ground  which  was  called  from  its  occupation 
Fairfield.  Fairs  were  very  useful  and  amusing  to 
country  people   before  railways   made  communica- 


134  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

tion  between  distant  parts  easy.  There  was  a  good 
deal  of  bona  fide  business  transacted,  but  the  main 
object  was  amusement. 

There  were  enormous  quantities  of  walnuts  for 
sale,  in  sacks,  baskets,  and  boxes.  There  was  ginger- 
bread with  the  gilt  on,  and  gingerbread  with  the 
gilt  off.  There  were  targets  of  various  kinds,  and 
cocoa-nuts,  three  shies  a  penny.  Aunt  Sallys,  swings, 
merry-go-rounds,  and  other  delights,  from  fat 
ladies,  learned  pigs,  wrestlers,  single-stick  players, 
soothsayers,  to  vanishing  ladies,  giants,  dwarfs,  and 
American  Indians  born  and  bred  in  Southwark,  all 
to  be  seen  for  the  modest  sum  of  a  penny  a  piece. 
In  a  sort  of  central  square  were  situated  the  aris- 
tocratic entertainments.  There  was  Richardson's 
show,  which  continued  the  Elizabethan  tradition  in 
having  an  open-air  stage  outside,  besides  a  modern 
stage  with  curtain  and  footlights  in  the  interior. 
Performances  took  place  free  gratis  on  the  outside 
to  whet  the  appetite.  The  whole  company,  mag- 
nificently dressed  for  a  bloody  and  dismal  tragedy, 
gaily  danced  quadrilles.  Then  after  much  beating 
of  the  gong  and  shouting,  everybody  disappeared 
into  the  interior,  leaving  such  an  aching  void 
by  their  absence,  that  a  rush  of  the  public  at 
6d.  a  head  would  take  place  to  witness  the 
performance. 


AMUSEMENTS    OF   THE   POOR       135 

Then  there  was  a  circus,  which  was  Hke  every 
other  circus  which  has  existed  before  or  since.  The 
same  remarkable  spotted  horses  with  pink  noses, 
spangled  ladies,  paper  hoops  to  jump  through, 
trained  horses  who  dined  with  the  clown,  educated 
ponies  who  appealed  to  the  feminine  hearts,  tumblers 
and  acrobats,  jugglers  and  performing  dogs.  These 
things  have  expanded  and  become  more  splendid, 
and  edged  their  way  into  permanent  hippodromes, 
but  have  not  altered  in  their  nature  from  that  day 
to  this. 

There  were  the  waxworks,  either  Mrs.  Jarley's 
or  some  opponent's,  containing  models  of  the  celeb- 
rities of  both  hemispheres  and  a  small  supplementary 
tent  called  the  chamber  of  horrors,  on  account  of 
containing  the  portraits  of  sundry  brutal  but  popular 
murderers,  who  all  had  very  nice  pink  complexions 
and  neatly  dressed  hair,  as  if  homicide  were  a  healthy 
and  refining  occupation.  Then  there  was  Womb- 
well's  menagerie,  with  a  most  gorgeous  oriental 
fa9ade,  decorated  with  pictures  of  wild  animals 
jumping  about  in  a  state  of  extreme  liveliness.  In- 
side, the  unfortunate  beasts  were  confined  in  cages 
far  too  small  for  them  ;  the  whole  place  was  very 
dismal  and  smelly.  The  great  attraction  was  the 
feeding  of  the  animals  and  the  occasional  perform- 
ance   of    the    lion-tamer,    who    might    be    a    lady. 


136  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

Interspersed  were  refreshment  booths,  where  very 
soHd  meals  could  be  procured,  and  were  largely 
patronised  ;  the  special  dish  for  the  season  was 
roast  goose,  which  was  eaten  in  enormous  quantities. 
And  to  wind  up,  there  were  large  booths  which 
provided  spacious  floors  and  bands  for  dancing. 
We  were  ourselves  forcibly  removed  from  the  fair 
at  an  early  hour  in  the  evening,  but  were 
given  to  understand  that  the  dancing  was  kept 
up  nearly  all  night.  Though  our  stay  was  tyran- 
nously  curtailed,  we  were  promised  that  when 
we  were  grown  up  we  might  dance  till  breakfast 
time.  We  were  taken  to  the  fair  by  the  maid- 
servants in  the  afternoon,  and  by  the  groom  in  the 
evening. 

At  the  time  we  are  describing  there  were  many 
large  and  important  fairs  held  all  over  the  country, 
but  for  some  reasons  they  have  almost  ceased  to 
exist.  A  few  shows  and  circuses  may  still  be  met 
with  in  the  outskirts  of  towns  ;  swings  and  merry- 
go-rounds  spring  up  mysteriously  in  vacant  spaces, 
and  as  mysteriously  vanish.  Some  of  this  kind 
are  engaged  for  school  feasts  and  club  walks,  and 
at  the  coronation  of  our  present  King  the  Corpora- 
tion of  Liverpool  held  a  fair  in  Sefton  Park,  which 
was  greatly  enjoyed  by  everybody  except  by  the 
inhabitants    of    the    neighbourhood.     I    myself    in 


AMUSEMENTS   OF  THE   POOR       137 

cycling  about  the  country  have  become  acquainted 
by  sight  with  an  enterprising  person  who  drives 
a  large  yellow  van,  on  which  he  announces  that 
he  attends  "  Feets  and  Gales  on  the  shortest 
notice." 


CHAPTER    IX 

ENTERTAINMENTS,    READINGS,    AND   EVERY 
MAN   FOR   HIMSELF 

In  the  early  Victorian  days  a  great  number  of  people 
had  strong  scruples  against  entering  a  theatre. 
They  entertained  an  inherited  prejudice,  which  they 
did  not  care  to  disturb  by  an  investigation  of  the 
actual  facts,  but  they  were  not  destitute  of  the  natural 
appetite  and  love  of  the  intellectual  enjoyment 
afforded  by  dramatic  performances,  and  would 
eagerly  go  to  any  place  which  gave  them  the  same 
kind  of  thing  without  the  objectionable  name,  so 
that  when  the  nation  began  to  recover  from  the 
effects  of  the  great  war,  and  money  became  more 
plentiful,  and  facilities  of  travel  increased,  the 
country  cousin  with  his  women-folk  came  to  London 
for  their  amusements,  and  found  entertainers  ready 
with  open  doors  to  welcome  them. 

One  of  the  most  popular  of  these  was  Mr.  Albert 
Smith's  account  of  his  ascent  of  Mont  Blanc.  He 
had  begun  life  as  a  dentist,  but  he  had  literary  and 
theatrical  tastes,  had  written  some  amusing  books 

in  imitation,  at  a  very  respectful  distance,  of  Boz^ 

138 


ENTERTAINMENTS   AND    READINGS     139 

and  illustrated  by  Phiz.  He  connected  himself  with 
the  theatre  by  marrying  Miss  Keeley,  the  daughter 
of  two  of  the  most  popular  comedians  of  the  day. 
Furnished  with  a  beautifully  painted  diorama  and 
aided  by  a  piano,  he  gave  an  account  of  his  journey 
to  Switzerland,  and  his  ascent  of  Mont  Blanc, 
which  had  not  then  become  a  pleasure  trip.  The 
entertainment  of  its  kind  was  delightful,  and  in 
many  ways  original.  At  the  end  of  the  hall,  in  the 
position  usually  occupied  by  a  proscenium,  was 
an  exact  imitation  of  the  front  of  a  Swiss  chalet, 
with  a  foreground  of  rock  and  trickling  water.  On  the 
left  hand  was  a  bower  of  vegetation,  which  partially 
concealed  the  lecturer,  and  wholly  hid  the  piano  from 
view.  A  huge  St.  Bernard  dog  walked  about  among 
the  audience,  and  was  petted  by  the  ladies  in  the  stalls. 
The  lecturer  himself  appeared  exactly  as  the 
clock  was  striking.  He  began  with  his  start  from 
London,  gave  an  account  of  the  people  he  had 
met  on  his  journey,  the  things  and  places  he  had 
seen,  with  correct  imitation  of  the  way  his  fellow- 
travellers  had  spoken,  eaten,  drank,  and  smoked. 
As  the  English  in  those  days  considered  themselves 
superior  to  foreigners,  and  knew  nothing  about 
them,  the  story  of  their  ways  was  considered  capital 
fun.  Meanwhile  a  portion  of  the  chalet  front 
opened  and  exposed  the  diorama,  which  was  moved 


140  PHIZ   AND   DICKENS 

slowly  along,  giving  a  continuous  view,  as  if  the 
country  were  seen  from  a  steamer  or  a  train.  As 
travel  was  not  so  common,  cheap,  or  comfortable 
as  it  is  now,  these  views  of  places  with  Mr.  Albert 
Smith's  light  and  airy  description  were  found  very 
interesting.  He  interspersed  his  lecture  with  anec- 
dotes, and,  like  Mr.  Silas  Wegg,  occasionally  dropped 
into  verse  and  song,  accompanying  himself  on  the 
piano,  and  wound  up  with  a  long  patter  on  the  topics 
of  the  day,  supposed  to  represent  the  contents  of 
Galignani's  Messenger^  at  that  time  the  only  English 
paper  published  in  Paris.  I  am  bound  to  say,  I 
do  not  think  anything  so  good  of  its  kind  exists 
to-day ;  it  was  far  superior  and  better  for  the  eyes 
than  the  cinematograph. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  German  Reed  ventured  very 
nearly  into  the  danger-zone.  They  had  a  regular 
stage  on  a  very  small  scale  but  exactly  like  the 
real  thing,  with  foothghts,  a  curtain,  and  cos- 
tumes. They  performed  little  plays,  and  above 
all,  Mrs.  German  Reed  had  once  been  a 
popular  actress  under  the  name  of  Miss  Priscilla 
Horton.  They  were  assisted  by  Mr.  John  Parry, 
and  subsequently  by  Mr.  Corney  Grain,  as  "  enter- 
tainers," a  name  invented  since  their  time,  but 
signifying  one  who  could  play  tricks  on  the  piano 
and  talk  to  the  audience  at  the  same  time. 


A    lAIK    i:(^)UESTKIA\. 
Water-colour  circa  1S50.     Keiiucid /roiii  ■2^111.  x  21///. 


ENTERTAINMENTS    AND    READINGS    141 

Both  of  them  certainly  were  entertaining.  And 
for  those  who  thought  a  Httle  clerical  protection 
agreeable,  the  Rev.  J.  C.  M.  Bellew  began  to  give 
readings  of  a  dramatic  type  in  prose  and  poetry. 
He  was  one  of  Hablot  Browne's  few  clerical  acquaint- 
ances. At  a  later  date  he  gave  up  his  orders  and 
became  a  Roman  Catholic,  and  adopted  recitation 
as  his  profession.  When  I  first  knew  him  he  was 
incumbent  of  a  fashionable  church  in  St.  John's 
Wood.  He  was  a  handsome  man,  good  features, 
and  a  fine  mane  of  grey  hair.  He  had  his  surplice 
cut  with  a  kind  of  bulge,  which  suggested  an  embry- 
onic state  of  an  episcopal  lawn  sleeve.  The  sermon 
was  an  oration  carefully  prepared  and  carefully 
read,  or  rather  declaimed,  and  any  lack  of  thought 
was  entirely  concealed  by  a  sonorous  rhetoric. 
The  last  time  I  heard  him  was  in  St.  George's  Hall 
in  Liverpool,  where  he  recited  several  pieces  to  the 
accompaniment  of  the  great  organ,  no  easy  task, 
but  most  successfully  accomplished,  apparently  with- 
out any  strain  on  the  voice.  His  comic  readings 
were  not  above  the  average,  and  he  had  neither  a 
natural  gift  for  humour,  nor  was  his  method  adapted 
to  comedy.  But  in  declamation  he  was  unsurpassed, 
and  has  had  no  successor. 

Miss  Fanny  Kemble,  the  youngest  member  of  a 
distinguished  theatrical  family,  gave  readings  from 


142  PHIZ  AND   DICKENS 

Shakespere.  She  read  with  enormous  spirit  and  go, 
and,  as  I  thought,  with  an  exaggerated  display  of  facial 
expression,  but  I  was  very  young  when  I  attended 
her  recitals  in  the  little  theatre  at  Croydon,  and  the 
fault  may  have  arisen  from  the  smallness  of  the 
auditorium  rendering  her  actions  too  big  for  the 
size  of  the  palce.  There  is  a  great  difference  needed 
between  the  acting  adapted  for  a  large  and  small 
theatre,  which  she  did  not  sufficiently  regard.  Any- 
way she  made  the  meaning  of  the  author  clear. 

Then  there  was  Mr.  Woodin,  who  was,  what  is  now 
called,  a  "  quick-change  artist,"  and  imitated  imagi- 
nary characters  and  celebrities  as  half-length  por- 
traits. He  occupied  a  whole  evening  all  by  himself, 
popping  down  behind  a  kind  of  draped  toilette 
table  as  Mr.  Woodin,  and  reappearing  as  a  rosy 
farmer  from  the  Midlands,  or  the  Emperor  of  the 
French,  a  young  lady  in  full  dress,  and  other  equally 
surprising  variations  from  his  own  normal  person- 
ality. Many  of  his  kind  exist,  and  give  turns  more 
or  less  similar  at  the  music  halls.  He  had  no 
assistant. 

I  have  no  doubt  there  were  others  that  I  did 
not  happen  to  know  about.  These  were  examples 
that  showed  that  a  man  could  for  an  hour  or  two 
hold  the  attention  of  an  audience  and  carry  out  an 
entertainment   at   a  very   small   expense,   and  with 


ENTERTAINMENTS   AND   READINGS    143 

less  exertion  than  is  involved  in  playing  a  long  part 
in  a  regular  drama. 

Dickens  had  more  than  an  ordinary  hankering 
for  the  stage  ;  he  had  a  passion  for  the  footlights ; 
he  also  had  a  strongly  ingrained  desire  to  make  large 
sums  of  money  quickly.  Profuse  himself,  he  desired 
profuseness  on  the  part  of  the  public.  He  wanted 
their  money,  and  he  wanted  that  immediate  applause 
which  rewards  the  actor ;  to  him  the  audience  gives 
twice,  for  it  gives  quickly  ;  to  the  author  it  may  give 
as  much,  but  it  gives  slowly,  and  the  plaudits  do 
not  ring  in  the  ears  immediately  as  the  reward  for 
effort.  From  the  examples  around  him  he  saw 
his  way  to  indulge  his  propensities  at  an  expense 
that,  compared  with  engaging  a  theatre,  was  trivial. 
He  needed  no  company,  and  his  rental  would  be 
small.  There  would  be  no  risk.  I  heard  him  in 
St.  Martin's  Hall,  a  dismal  place  in  Long  Acre.  There 
was  no  bustle,  light,  or  brilliancy.  We  might  have 
been  attending  a  political  meeting.  The  platform 
was  converted  into  a  small  stage,  such  as  might 
serve  for  amateur  actors,  by  means  of  a  little  pro- 
scenium, which  reflected  top  and  side  lights  on  to 
the  reader,  and  kept  the  audience  in  a  gloomy 
twilight. 

Dickens  himself  came  on  the  platform  unaccom- 
panied,   and    appeared    a    smaller    man    than    he 


144  PHIZ   AND   DICKENS 

did  under  ordinary  circumstances.  He  was  very 
carefully  dressed  and  made  up  for  the  occasion, 
and  rather  looked  like  a  waxwork  of  himself,  with 
the  habitual  fire  and  spirit  smoothed  out  of  his  face. 
I  felt — and  I  am  not  sure  but  what  the  rest  of  the 
audience  also  felt,  and  I  feel  more  strongly  now — 
that  we  did  not  want  Dickens  there  ;  he  was  beneath 
his  right  position — somebody  else  could  have  served 
the  purpose  of  reading  his  works.  Therefore  there 
was  a  feeling  that  we  were  not  there  purely  for  the 
intellectual  pleasure  of  hearing  the  reading,  but 
partly  to  satisfy  our  curiosity  with  regard  to  the 
personality  of  the  man.  It  was  always  "  Mr.  Dickens 
and  how  he  was  doing  it  "  that  preoccupied  us. 
Also  his  elaborate  and  conventional  costume  was  a 
mistake.  Like  other  men  of  a  strong  character, 
he  did  not  look  his  best  in  evening  dress,  and  it  is 
quite  unadaptable  to  various  circumstances  incident 
to  the  representation  of  tragic  or  comic  actions  on 
the  part  of  different  characters.  It  has  a  definite 
association  with  occupations  of  the  most  decorous 
and  respectable  character.  When  a  man  puts  on 
his  dress  clothes,  he  announces  that  he  is  going 
to  behave  as  conventionally  as  possible. 

He  would  have  done  better  if  he  had  appeared  in 
something  like  his  ordinary  costume,  a  dark  blue 
loosely  cut  suit,  which  gave  him  rather  the  air  of  a 


ENTERTAINMENTS   AND   READINGS    145 

sea-captain  in  mufti.  It  would  have  been  perfectly- 
neutral,  and  even  if  it  took  some  of  the  conventional 
among  the  audience  by  surprise  at  first,  it  would  have 
aided  him  in  directing  attention  to  his  characters, 
instead  of  diverting  it.  It  was  impossible  not  to  be 
reminded  of  balls  and  parties,  or  the  opera,  when 
the  eye  was  caught  by  the  flashing  of  diamond  studs 
in  an  expanse  of  white  shirt.  It  may  have  been 
but  for  a  moment,  but  it  certainly  prevented  the 
necessary  concentration  on  Bill  Sikes  or  Mrs.  Gamp. 
A  reader  must  above  everything  be  neutral,  and  jar 
as  little  as  possible  with  the  characters  he  is  por- 
traying ;  if  he  does  not,  then  the  acting  must  be 
subdued  and  gesture  restrained,  so  that  the  assumed 
character  is  presented  to  the  audience  rather  in 
narrative  form  than  in  actual  embodiment. 

Taking  the  reading  on  its  own  merits,  and  putting 
aside  the  personality  of  the  author,  the  performances 
were  on  the  whole  disappointing,  clever  though  they 
were.  Curiously,  he  made  less  of  the  comic  char- 
acters and  more  of  the  serious  than  would  have 
been  expected. 

His  most  conspicuous  failure  was  Sam  Weller 
in  the  trial  from  Pickwick,  which  as  a  piece  is 
almost  perfect  as  a  reading.  Sam  Weller,  "  the 
immortal  Sam,"  fell  positively  flat.  His  great 
success,  greatest  because  imbued  with  passion  and 

K 


146  PHIZ  AND   DICKENS 

conviction,  was  the  murder  of  Nancy.  Here  he  threw 
the  book  away,  gave  himself  up  wholly  to  the  enact- 
ment of  the  horrible  scene.  It  must  be  remembered 
it  is  one  of  the  finest  bits  of  writing  in  his  works, 
and  produces  a  great  effect  if  it  is  simply  read  by 
a  moderately  good  reader,  without  any  attempt  at 
acting  at  all. 

In  London  the  readings  were  very  well  attended, 
but  in  the  provinces  they  roused  people  to  en- 
thusiasm, and  he  was  received  with  the  popular 
applause  which  the  early  Victorians  usually  reserved 
for  a  prima  donna  of  surpassing  excellence.  He 
was  of  course  a  friend  of  the  people,  and  they  came 
forth  in  their  thousands  to  see  him.  In  America 
these  readings  created  a  furore.  They  filled  his 
pockets  with  money,  and  wore  him  out. 

The  book  he  read  from  was  specially  arranged  as  to 
matter,  and  seemed  to  me  to  have  great  black  marks 
and  indications  to  attract  and  guide  his  eye,  and  al- 
ways enable  him  to  catch  his  place  when  he  changed, 
as  he  frequently  did,  from  reciting  to  reading. 
Of  course  the  man  of  genius  shone  through  every 
difficulty,  but  I  doubt  whether  elaborate  acting 
can  ever  be  wholly  successful  in  a  narrative  that  is 
read  from  a  book,  and  several  parts  played  by  one 
man.  What  he  did  was  as  well  done  as  it  could  be, 
but  it  was  not  worth  the  doing. 


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CHAPTER   X 

MUSIC— WHOLESALE   AMATEUR   SONGSTERS 

Interest  in  music  among  the  middle  classes  in  my 
early  days  was  not  wide,  nor  was  it  very  sincere. 
Well-trained  amateur  musicians  such  as  abound  in 
the  present  day  in  rivalry  with  the  pianola  and  gramo- 
phone did  not  then  exist.  Teaching  was  not  in  great 
demand,  and  being  esteemed  a  luxury,  and  savouring 
of  ostentation,  was  expensive,  besides  being  slow 
and  second  rate.  It  was  mostly  in  the  nature  of  pri- 
vate tuition,  and  though  there  were  a  few  choral 
societies,  the  audiences  were  shy  and  sparse,  so 
that  their  warblings  could  scarcely  be  described 
as   public. 

But  a  man  arose  who  exercised  a  profound  effect 
in  arousing  a  taste  which  did  exist,  though  only  in 
a  dormant  condition. 

Mr.  John  Hullah  took  Exeter  Hall,  an  immense 
building,  and  therein  taught  enormous  classes  to 
sing  part-songs  and  other  choral  music.  He  became 
very  popular,  and  if  everybody  did  not  join  his 
classes,  they  pretended   to  know    all    about    them. 

M7 


148  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

Tom   Hood   celebrated  him   in  a  poem,  of  which 
the  subjoined  Hnes  form  the  opening  : 

"MORE    HULLAH-BALOO  " 

Amongst  the  great  inventions  of  this  age, 
Which  ev'ry  other  century  surpasses, 
Is  one, — just  now  the  rage — 

Call'd  '  Singing  for  all  Classes — ' 
That  is,  for  all  the  British  millions. 
And  billions, 
And  quadrillions, 
Not  to  name  Quintilians, 
That  now,  alas  !  have  no  more  ear  than  asses, 
To  learn  to  warble  like  the  birds  in  June, 
In  time  and  tune. 
Correct  as  clocks,  and  musical  as  glasses  !  " 

John  Hullah  was  a  genuine  early  Victorian,  full  of 
confidence,  pluck,  and  resource.  He  undertook  his 
enormous  classes  at  a  time  when  failure  seemed 
inevitable,  and  scored  a  success.  He  was  an  enthu- 
siast. He  considered  that  a  naturally  bad  ear  was 
a  natural  curiosity,  and  though  there  were  many 
people  who  appeared  destitute  of  any  appreciation 
of  musical  sounds,  it  was  more  by  reason  of  want 
of  familiarity  or  teaching  than  a  natural  deficiency. 
With  all  his  vast  experience  he  said  that  he  had  only 
met  with  two  individuals  upon  whom  he  could  make 
no  impression.  One  was  a  person  of  no  importance  ; 
the  other  was  a  High  Church  clergyman,  who  desired 


MUSIC  149 

to  learn  sufficient  music  to  enable  him  to  intone 
the  service.  Everything  failed.  Nothing  could 
teach  him  to  hear  the  difference  between  two  notes 
of  music,  much  less  utter  them.  His  invincible 
ignorance,  however,  in  one  department  did  not 
extend  to  other  branches,  for  he  became  a  Dean 
and  a  celebrity,  not  only  on  account  of  his  pulpit 
eloquence  and  organising  powers,  but  for  the  value 
of  his  biographical  works. 

Mr.Hullah's  son,  my  fellow-student  at  St.  Thomas', 
posed  as  model  to  Mr.  Holman  Hunt  for  the  young 
man  who  is  seated  on  the  box  seat  of  an  omnibus 
in  the  picture  of  London  on  the  night  of  the 
marriage  of  the  Prince  of  Wales,  afterwards  Edward 
VH.  The  reader  will  remember  that  the  picture 
is  a  representation  under  a  strong  gas-light  illumina- 
tion, and  deals  therefore  with  the  general  effect  of 
objects  and  figures,  thereby  partially  revealed  with- 
out that  over  modelling  and  insistence  upon  un- 
important details  which  constitute  a  defect  in  many 
of  Mr.  Holman  Hunt's  pictures. 

Mr.  Hullah  was  a  friend  of  Dickens,  who  wrote 
for  him  the  words  of  an  operetta  called  The  Village 
Coquettes.  It  was  produced  at  the  St.  James'  Theatre 
in  1 836,  with  scenery  painted  from  sketches  by  Browne. 

I  find  a  reference  to  this  in  a  letter  from  Dickens 
to  Mr.  Home  : — 


150  PHIZ  AND    DICKENS 

"  Pray  tell  that  besotted  to  let  the   opera 

sink  into  its  native  obscurity.     I  did  it  in  a  fit  of 

d ble   good    nature   long   ago   for  HuUah,  who 

wrote  some  very  pretty  music  to  it.  I  just  put 
down  for  everybody  what  everybody  at  the  St. 
James'  Theatre  wanted  to  say  and  do,  and  that  they 
could  say  and  do  best,  and  I  have  been  most  sincerely 
repentant  ever  since.  The  farce  I  also  did  as  a  sort 
of  practical  joke  for  Harley,  whom  I  have  known  a 
long  time.  It  was  funny — adapted  from  one  of  the 
published  sketches  called  the  Great  Winglebury 
Duely  and  was  published  by  Chapman  &  Hall. 
But  I  have  no  copy  of  it  now,  nor  should  I  think  they 
have.  But  both  these  things  were  done  without 
the  least  consideration  or  regard  to  reputation." 

Compared  with  the  present  day,  the  early  Victor- 
ians were  short  of  music.  True,  during  the  season, 
the  opera  was  even  more  splendid  than  it  is  at  present. 
For  years  in  succession  the  two  great  houses  of  Her 
Majesty's  and  Covent  Garden  had  a  succession  of 
great  performers  singing  in  a  rivalry  which  was 
not  so  much  friendly  as  strenuous,  and  there  were 
of  course  the  classical  performances  at  the  old 
established  societies,  but  these  were  expensive  and 
not  for  the  people. 

The  first  successful  attempt  to  provide  good 
music  for  the  masses  was   made   by  Mr.   Augustus 


MUSIC  151 

Manns  at  the  Crystal  Palace.  He  was  for  a  time 
not  considered  as  a  musician  of  high  rank,  but  re- 
garded much  as  a  conductor  of  a  seaside  band.  He 
was  a  curious-looking  man,  wore  a  costume  something 
between  that  of  a  colonel  and  the  hall  porter  of 
a  modern  hotel,  and  wore  very  long  hair  to  be- 
token his  occupation.  By  degrees  he  found  himself 
surrounded  in  the  afternoon  by  a  small  but  attentive 
audience,  which  gradually  increased  until  he  worked 
himself  into  the  position  of  a  recognised  authority 
and  was  taken  seriously  by  competent  judges.  At 
the  Crystal  Palace  we  had  vocal  concerts  of  a  very 
high  quality  on  certain  afternoons,  and  here  we 
became  acquainted  with  the  leading  singers  of  the 
time. 

I  remember  upon  one  occasion,  among  others, 
we  heard  Piccolomini,  who  had  taken  the  town  by 
storm  by  her  singing  of  florid  Italian  music  and  her 
vivacious  acting.  She  was  supposed  to  be  a  prin- 
cess, and  certainly  bore  the  historic  name.  On  this 
occasion  she  sang  some  Italian  air  from  her  re- 
pertoire, and  then  another,  to  the  increasing  delight 
of  the  audience,  till  in  response  to  an  irresistible 
encore  she  sang  in  broken  English  the  well-known 
song  by  Balfe,  "  I  Dreamt  that  I  Dwelt  in  Marble 
Halls,"  and  presently  came  to  the  part  where  she 
discovered  that  in  the  midst  of  all  her  splendours 


152  PHIZ  AND   DICKENS 

she  was  most  delighted  to  find  "  He  loved  her  still 
the  same."  As  she  sang  these  words  she  cast  her 
eyes  sideways  towards  an  imaginary  lover  with  a 
languishing  amorousness  which  went  straight  to 
the  sentimental  heart  of  the  vast  audience.  But 
as  the  applause  somewhat  subsided  I  heard  a  lady 
in  front  of  me  say  to  her  daughters  in  a  loud  tone, 
"  The  manners  of  that  young  person  are  far  from 
pleasing." 

One  kind  of  entertainment  which  had  survived 
from  previous  generations  were  the  "  gardens," 
and  thither  the  early  Victorian  bourgeois  did  much 
resort.  The  majority  of  them  were  respectable, 
but  some  were  reputed  to  become  rowdy  after  eleven 
o'clock  at  night.  On  the  whole  they  rather  resembled, 
on  a  small  scale,  the  gardens  attached  to  our  Exhibi- 
tions at  Earl's  Court.  One  of  the  most  popular 
was  on  the  Surrey  side,  not  far  from  the  Kennington 
Oval.  It  was  a  pleasant  enough  garden,  containing 
a  number  of  houses  and  cages  for  the  accommodation 
of  wild  beasts,  from  elephants  to  white  rats,  and 
was  called  the  Surrey  Zoological  Gardens.  So  far 
it  was  a  humble  imitation  of  the  grounds  in  Regent's 
Park,  but  it  differed  from  them,  as  it  gave  during 
the  afternoon  and  evening  a  series  of  entertainments. 
There  was  an  orchestra  and  platform  for  the  delight 
of  dancers,  and  concerts  used  to  be  given  in  a  huge 


MUSIC  153 

hall  holding  some  thousands.  This  building  was 
subsequently  converted  into  St.  Thomas'  Hospital, 
while  the  present  structure  was  being  built  opposite 
the  Houses  of  Parliament.  One  side  of  the  garden 
was  bounded  by  a  shallow  lake,  and  on  the  far  side 
was  erected  a  scene  representing  a  town  which  might 
be  besieged,  or  a  volcano  which  might  suffer  an  erup- 
tion. It  excited  admiration  as  a  landscape  during 
daylight,  and  after  dark  served  for  a  lavish  display 
of  fireworks.  In  the  early  part  of  the  afternoon 
on  certain  occasions  we  were  gratified  by  a  balloon 
ascent,  and  the  subsequent  descent  by  a  hardy 
person  in  a  parachute.  The  balloon  gave  delight 
not  only  to  the  visitors  in  the  garden  who  had  paid, 
but  to  several  square  miles  of  street  population  who 
had  not,  who  ran  shouting  "  Balloon  !  balloon  !  " 
and  often  succeeded  in  getting  within  four  or  five 
miles  of  the  spot  where  it  descended. 

In  the  course  of  the  evening  a  concert  was 
given  in  the  hall  by  Julien,  who  was  the  great 
provider  of  popular  music.  He  was  undoubtedly 
a  clever  man,  a  Frenchman,  a  poseur,  partly  a 
charlatan — sufficiently  so  to  render  him  attractive 
and  impressive  to  the  public — and  partly  a 
serious  musician,  though  he  was  too  prone  by 
nature  to  lay  an  undue  stress  on  effect.  He  had 
all  sorts  of  odd  ways  of  attracting  public  attention 


154  PHIZ  AND   DICKENS 

by  means  of  queer  instruments  and  previously 
unknown  noises.  At  one  time  he  produced  an 
immense  drum,  which  was  hung  at  the  top  of  the 
orchestra  at  the  back,  where  it  looked  like  the  father 
of  all  drums  surrounded  by  its  family.  It  required 
two  men  to  play  it,  and  we  watched  with  great 
interest  how  each  drummer  had  to  look  sideways 
along  the  barrel  of  the  drum  to  see  how  his  colleague 
was  getting  on  at  the  other  end,  and  time  his  own 
thwacks  accordingly.  But  in  spite  of  these  oddities 
Julien  was  a  protagonist  in  the  arena  of  modern 
music.  He  was  undoubtedly  if  not  the  first,  at 
least  one  of  the  pioneers  of  programme-music,  and 
not  a  slave  to  melody.  All  sorts  of  sounds  were 
fish  for  his  musical  net.  As  the  symphony  was 
rather  beyond  the  liking  of  the  popular  audience, 
his  tone  poems  were  frequently  cast  in  the  forms 
of  quadrilles  or  dances.  I  remember  one  which 
was  of  a  military  nature,  and  something  after  the 
following  fashion  : — 

We  bowed  to  partners,  crossed  over  and  backed 
again  to  the  distant  step  of  a  large  army  approaching 
us,  the  footsteps  growing  louder  and  louder  as  they 
came  nearer.  Then  we  did  the  ladies'  chain,  to 
the  drums  and  fifes  briskly  playing  "  The  Girls 
we  left  behind  us,"  and  then  they  came  towards  us 
and  swept  past,  departing  into  silence,  leaving  noth- 


MUSIC  155 

ing  but  sobs  behind  them.  Then  came  the  combat, 
ushered  in  by  a  booming  sound  on  the  kettledrums, 
punctuated  by  low  booms  produced  by  the  big  drum. 
Then  there  came  on  an  indescribable  din,  shrieks 
of  the  wounded,  on  the  wood- wind.  A  staccato 
movement  on  the  brass  signifying  a  gallant  charge 
of  the  Old  Guard,  and  the  time  marked  every  three 
or  four  bars  by  the  discharge  of  ordnance — real 
cannons  !  The  foe  fled  before  the  trombones  and 
the  ordnance — the  night  seemed  to  close  in  to  the 
distant  melody  of  the  evening  hymn.  I  do  not 
remember  that  the  snores  of  the  sleeping  army  were 
represented,  but  I  should  have  mentioned  that  at 
one  point  the  clock  certainly  struck  midnight.  Then, 
as  day  might  be  supposed  to  dawn,  we  might  hear 
the  church  bells  calling  the  villagers  to  church, 
cattle  and  goats  and  sheep  all  uttering  their  charac- 
teristic sounds  in  strict  time  to  the  music  as  they 
were  driven  to  their  pasture.  Mingled  with  these 
pacific  sounds  from  far,  far  away  came  the  sound 
of  a  military  band,  which  approached  at  the  abnormal 
pace  of  people  in  a  cinematograph,  its  tones  growing 
louder  and  louder  as  it  drew  nearer  the  town,  till  at 
length  the  spirited  air  of  the  "  British  Grenadiers  " 
flying  about  with  the  greatest  impartiality  from  one 
set  of  instruments  to  another  could  plainly  be 
distinguished. 


156  PHIZ  AND   DICKENS 

This,  as  was  only  natural,  would  seem  to  have 
awakened  the  sleepers,  and  the  hastily  attired  popula- 
tion poured  into  the  streets  to  welcome  the  returning 
heroes  with  acclamation  and  the  ringing  of  joy  bells. 
Then  the  whole  would  conclude  by  the  soldiers 
and  inhabitants  fraternising,  and  singing  a  hymn 
of  thanksgiving  with  Methodistic  fervour,  punctuated 
from  time  to  time  with  a  tremendous  roar  augmented 
by  the  rattle  of  the  side  drums,  and  as  we  bowed 
to  partners  and  offered  arms,  the  music  abruptly 
stopped,  Julien  would  apparently  lose  the  use  of 
his  legs,  and  like  one  stricken  by  a  mortal  weakness 
would  sink  back  exhausted  into  a  golden  chair. 

One  never-to-be-forgotten  night  there  was  nearly 
a  riot.  The  attraction  was  Alboni.  The  hall  was  not 
merely  crowded,  but  the  spectators  were  wedged  in 
against  one  another  like  figs  in  a  box.  There  were 
hundreds  piled  up  against  each  doorway,  and  out- 
side an  angry  and  disappointed  mob  surrounded  the 
building  in  loose  order.  There  was  also  a  number 
of  people  in  the  roads  outside  the  grounds.  Time 
after  time  did  Julien  attempt  to  begin  a  popular 
overture,  but  nothing  could  be  heard  but  the  tumul- 
tuous shouts  of  "Alboni."  Those  who  were  inside 
wanted  their  song  at  once,  those  who  were  jammed 
in  the  doors  wanted  to  be  released  ;  at  length 
Julien,  after  a  hurried  disappearance,  came  forward 


MUSIC  157 

without  his  baton  and  tried  to  address  the  mob. 
After  an  indescribable  tumult  between  those  who 
wanted  to  hear  what  he  had  to  say  and  those  who 
were  too  indignant  to  hear  anything,  he  was  heard 
to  say,  '*  Gentlemen,  I  have  been  to  the  directors, 
and  " — pointing  his  fingers  to  his  ears — "  they  have 
shooted  their  ears."  The  audience  with  the  good- 
nature of  an  English  mob  roared  with  laughter, 
and  Julien  seizing  the  happy  moment  rushed  to  the 
artists'  door  and  led  on  Alboni. 

My  father  enjoyed  these  entertainments,  for  with 
the  exception  of  a  short  space  of  time  in  the  concert 
hall  we  were  in  the  open  air  all  the  time.  We  drove 
there  and  back  in  an  open  chaise,  and  picnicked 
in  the  grounds. 


CHAPTER   XI 

EARLY   VICTORIAN   ILLUSTRATIONS 

The  methods  of  publishing  were  necessarily  very 
different  from  those  employed  in  the  present  day, 
and  in  the  matter  of  mechanical  reproduction  in- 
ferior in  the  sense  of  economy,  precision,  and  rapidity. 
Owing  to  the  immense  popularity  of  Dickens,  my 
father's  work  became  so  universally  known  that  he 
was  besieged  with  clients.  It  must  be  kept  in  mind 
that  his  work  belonged  to  his  generation  and  ex- 
actly suited  the  taste  of  the  time,  so  that  without 
doubt  he  would  have  become  a  popular  illustrator 
even  if  he  had  begun  his  career  more  quietly.  But 
the  excess  of  work  certainly  exercised  a  deleterious 
influence  over  his  artistic  development  in  other 
directions.  His  whole  time  was  taken  up  with  the 
attempt  to  keep  pace  with  the  demand,  and  leaving 
very  little  leisure  for  preparation,  study,  or  even 
observation.  The  enormous  success  of  Pickwick 
alone,  its  great  publicity,  gave  him  a  reputation  in 
a  few  months  that  could  only  have  been  acquired 
under  ordinary  circumstances  in  several  years.    At 

the  time  when  he  had  attained  little  more  than  his 

158 


EARLY  VICTORIAN  ILLUSTRATIONS     159 

majority,  he  was  the  most  popular  illustrator  in  the 
kingdom.  There  was,  of  course,  no  author  who 
could  be  put  into  competition  with  Dickens  for  a 
single  moment,  but  there  were  writers  of  merit 
who  had  a  certain  amount  of  popularity  for  whom 
he  did  similar  work.  There  was  scarcely  anybody 
who  had  produced  an  ill-developed  bantling  of  a 
book  but  who  was  desirous  of  the  aid  of  at  least 
one  drawing  from  his  hand.  The  reader  will  there- 
fore understand  that  he  had  very  little  leisure,  and 
his  simple  tastes  did  not  tempt  him  to  neglect  the 
work  immediately  under  his  hand  for  any  form  of 
recreation.  Each  author  (or  his  publisher)  naturally 
considered  his  own  work  of  the  greatest  importance, 
so  there  was  always  somebody  in  a  state  of  fuss 
urging  haste — though  experience  constantly  showed 
that  the  world  could  well  afford  to  wait  patiently 
for  many  of  the  productions.  A  short  account  of 
the  work  itself  may  not  be  out  of  place. 

It  may  be  noted  that  a  certain  proportion  of  these 
books  were  issued  in  monthly  numbers,  while  others 
were  published  as  complete  volumes.  The  former 
category  generally  contained  two  steel  engravings 
for  each  number,  the  others  as  many  as  the  pub- 
lisher thought  would  be  necessary  to  attract  buyers. 
Moreover,  a  number  of  less  important  drawings 
were  executed  as  woodcuts.     Both  methods  of  repro- 


i6o  PHIZ   AND   DICKENS 

duction  have  been  superseded  almost,  if  not  entirely, 
by  mechanical  processes,  in  which  photography 
and  chemistry  play  an  important  part,  and  it  may 
be  advisable  here  to  briefly  explain  the  methods 
then  in  vogue. 

Those  who  have  studied  the  works  with  any  care 
will  have  noticed  the  different  qualities  of  the  etch- 
ings and  woodcuts.  They  might  almost  be  the 
work  of  two  different  men.  The  woodcuts  are  in- 
variably inferior  to  the  etchings.  The  process  of 
etching  was  as  follows  :  The  plate  after  being  heated 
was  dabbed  over  with  a  special  quality  of  wax,  which 
was  blackened  by  exposure  to  the  fuliginous  flame 
of  a  taper.  The  coating  of  wax  was  very  thin, 
and  was  required  to  be  tenacious,  but  not  brittle. 
The  design  showing  in  a  rough  way  the  main  lines, 
and  distribution  of  light  and  shade,  was  made  in 
chalk,  pencil,  or  in  Indian  ink  on  a  thin  paper. 
Browne  generally  used  ordinary  straw  letter  paper  ; 
a  sheet  of  tissue  paper  was  rubbed  with  sanguine 
(red  chalk)  placed  face  downwards  on  the  wax. 
On  this  was  placed  the  design,  which  was  firmly 
traced  over  by  a  blunt  point.  On  removing  the  two 
sheets  of  paper  the  design  could  be  seen  more  or 
less  completely  drawn  in  red  on  the  dark  surface 
of  the  wax.  Then  the  etcher  with  a  sharp-pointed 
needle  would  scratch  the  wax,  very  much  as  if  draw- 


A 


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t 


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J 

I 


If 

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THK    ROCKKKS. 


EARLY  VICTORIAN  ILLUSTRATIONS     i6i 

ing  with  an  ordinary  lead  pencil,  so  as  to  expose 
the  metal  surface  beneath.  He  might  or  might 
not  slightly  scratch  the  surface  of  the  plate,  but  to 
get  the  wax  off  was  the  one  thing  essential.  It 
would  then  be  noticed  that  the  outlines  and  shading 
did  not  show  as  dark  upon  light,  but  as  glittering 
shining  lines,  so  that  the  design  would  appear  light 
where  it  was  intended  to  be  dark,  and  vice  versa. 
Over  the  surface  so  prepared  was  poured  a  mordant 
solution  ;  in  the  case  of  Browne's  steel  plates  it 
was  diluted  nitric  acid.  The  whole  plate  would  be 
exposed  to  the  solution  for  a  certain  time  ;  and  when 
the  background  and  parts  that  required  to  appear 
delicately  etched  were  judged  to  be  sufficiently 
bitten,  they  would  be  varnished  so  that  the  acid 
could  not  reach  the  metal,  and  the  biting-in  con- 
tinued for  some  time  longer  over  the  darker  parts. 
A  skilful  biter-in,  such  as  Robert  Young,  could 
produce  many  degrees  of  gradation,  but  in  such  plates 
used  in  the  ordinary  illustrations  not  more  than  three 
or  four  distinctions  are  to  be  found,  the  backgrounds, 
faces,  the  costumes,  and  the  foregrounds.  It  will 
be  perceived  that  if  an  etcher  and  biter-in  under- 
stood one  another,  the  exact  effect  desired  might 
be  attained.  The  biting-in  finished,  the  wax  had 
to  be  cleared  off  the  plate,  which  then  appeared  as  a 
bright  shining  surface  partly  covered  by  scratches. 


i62  PHIZ   AND   DICKENS 

It  passed  now  into  the  hands  of  the  printer, 
who  proceeded  to  dab  it  all  over  with  printing  ink, 
which  was  wiped  off,  first  by  means  of  a  rag,  and 
finally  by  the  ball  of  his  thumb.  It  will  be  perceived 
that  the  surface  was  again  bright  and  shining,  but 
that  the  grooves  made  by  the  needle  and  the  acid 
were  filled  with  the  ink  and  appeared  as  black  lines. 
The  plate  and  a  rather  thick  paper  were  then  passed 
under  a  roller-press,  not  unlike  the  domestic  mangle, 
and  the  drawing  appeared  for  the  first  time  in  black 
and  white.  Considerable  experience  was  required 
in  carrying  out  the  design,  as  the  etcher  never  saw 
his  work  in  its  proper  relations  until  after  it  had 
passed  out  of  his  hands.  Modern  etchings  which 
are  executed  with  a  view  to  pictorial  effects  involve 
a  rather  more  complicated  technique,  which  how- 
ever only  differs  in  detail  and  not  in  principle. 
The  steel  etchings  could  not  be  printed  at  the  same 
time  as  the  letterpress,  and  either  had  to  appear 
on  separate  paper,  as  they  did  in  the  Dickens'  num- 
bers, or  if  printed  among  the  text,  by  two  separate 
printings,  as  in  the  case  of  the  beautiful  Turner 
vignettes  to  Rogers'  poems. 

In  the  case  of  the  Dickens  books,  with  their  enor- 
mous sale,  the  plate-printing  being  slower  than  the 
letterpress,  one  or  two  replicas  were  required,  and 
were  executed  by  Browne  by  hand.     It  is  astonish- 


EARLY  VICTORIAN  ILLUSTRATIONS     163 

ing  how  close  the  copies  were,  but  minute  differ- 
ences can  be  detected  on  a  careful  examination. 
The  utility  of  the  preliminary  tracings  becomes 
obvious. 

As  a  mechanical  aid  Browne  possessed  a 
ruling  machine,  which  was  capable  of  producing 
parallel  lines  very  close  together,  or  with  an  appre- 
ciable distance  between  them,  so  that  any  plate 
could  be  covered  by  a  tint  ranging  from  grey  almost 
to  black  by  being  subjected  to  this  machine.  Whilst 
the  wax  was  on  it  the  shades  could  be  drawn  in  the 
usual  manner  by  the  etching  needle,  and  the  lights 
stopped  out  with  the  varnish,  before  the  application 
of  the  mordant.  In  this  manner  very  good  effects 
could  be  produced  with  little  labour ;  the  machine 
could  be  used  by  an  assistant,  and  required  no  more 
skill  than  a  barrel-organ.  It  was  used  with  great 
effect  in  Bleak  House,  to  be  referred  to  hereafter. 
A  steel  plate  required  incessant  care  and  attention 
from  the  beginning  to  the  end  of  its  existence.  A 
variation  in  the  skill  or  carefulness  of  the  printer 
would  affect  the  result  to  an  extraordinary  degree. 
When  much  call  was  made  upon  a  plate  it  was  apt 
to  be  worn  away  unevenly,  and  required  repairing. 
Allowance  being  made  for  these  defects,  it  was  an 
excellent  means  of  illustrating,  and  though  not  an 
absolute  facsimile  of  the  artist's  handling,  it  was 


i64  PHIZ  AND  DICKENS 

to  a  great  extent  autographic.  Modern  processes 
of  course  are  absolutely  faithful  facsimiles,  even 
down  to  faults  in  drawing  material  or  paper. 

A  wood  block  was  usually  made  of  box-wood, 
cut  across  the  grain  with  a  beautifully  level  and 
polished  surface.  On  to  this,  after  a  preparation 
by  means  of  a  coating  of  Chinese  white,  the  design 
was  traced  in  sanguine,  in  the  same  way  as  the  first 
stage  of  an  etching,  showing  red  on  white.  The 
drawing  was  completed  in  the  usual  manner  with  a 
very  hard  black  lead  pencil,  and  it  was  the  business 
of  the  draughtsman  to  vary  the  blackness  of  his  line 
by  its  thickness,  and  never  by  any  variation  of  his 
pressure  on  the  pencil.  The  business  of  an  engraver 
was  to  cut  away  all  the  white,  leaving  the  black  lines 
or  shading  of  the  pencil  standing  up  as  little  ridges, 
exactly  similar  to  the  little  ridges  which  constitute 
the  letters  in  ordinary  type.  Moreover,  if  required, 
an  engraver  could  produce  a  tint  in  the  same  manner 
as  with  the  ruling  machine  above  mentioned  by 
means  of  parallel  lines.  When  the  draughtsman's 
pencil  line  was  exactly  reproduced  the  work  was 
called  "  facsimile,"  and  resembled  the  design, 
with  only  the  amount  of  variation  which  would  nor- 
mally exist  between  a  drawing  in  pencil  and  another 
in  pen  and  ink,  that  is  to  say,  with  a  little  added 
stiffness. 


EARLY  VICTORIAN  ILLUSTRATIONS     165 

In  the  engraving  in  "  tint  "  the  engraver  exer- 
cised his  individual  skill  as  to  his  tint,  and  could 
represent  the  effect  of  a  drawing  executed  in  Indian 
ink  by  a  series  of  close  parallel  lines,  and  Chinese 
white  by  cutting  away  the  whole  surface.  So  that 
wood  cutting  was  capable  of  considerable  variety, 
ranging  from  the  effects  of  a  coarse  line  engraving 
to  those  of  a  monochrome  drawing.  As  the  ink 
was  conveyed  by  the  upstanding  ridges,  the  block 
could  be  set  up  and  printed  with  the  letterpress,  as 
it  was  for  many  years  in  the  pages  of  the  Illustrated 
News  and  Punch.  The  difference  between  the  two 
processes  was  that  every  groove  made  by  the  etcher 
printed  as  black,  whereas  every  groove  made  by  the 
wood  cutter  printed  as  white. 

Browne  was  an  accomplished  etcher,  but  he  was 
never  at  home  with  the  technique  of  wood  cutting. 
He  never  seemed  able  to  realise  what  changes  an 
engraver  might  make  in  the  appearance  of  his 
drawing.  As  a  rule,  the  tendency  was  to  increase 
the  amount  of  white  shown,  and  thereby  thin 
the  line,  and  also  in  a  free  kind  of  drawing  to 
substitute  something  more  mechanical.  He  never 
cured  himself  of  using  a  mixed  method  of  draw- 
ing and  leaving  the  engraver  to  find  his  way  out 
of  it,  which  he  generally  did  by  cutting  away 
anything   that   offered    a   difficulty.     It    may   seem 


i66  PHIZ  AND  DICKENS 

strange  that  a  man  should  not  have  an  equal  skill 
in  the  two  methods,  but  it  was  often  the  case  that 
when  men  had  been  practised  in  drawing  upon 
wood,  they  found  great  difficulty  in  etching,  that  is 
to  say,  without  expending  more  care  and  attention 
on  the  work  than  it  was  worth. 

Leech  drew  much  better  on  wood  than  he  could 
etch,  but  he  was  not  free  from  mischances  at  the 
hands  of  the  cutter.  When  a  friend  praised  one  of 
his  drawings  on  a  block  he  said,  "  Wait  till  it  comes 
back  from  the  engraver."  The  freer  the  line  and 
the  more  vivacious  the  handling,  the  greater  the 
damage  done  in  the  cutting.  The  draughtsman 
who  desired  a  good  facsimile  had  to  keep  clearly 
before  his  mind  the  difficulties  of  the  engraver,  who 
had  to  reverse  the  whole  process  and  work  at  the 
white,  leaving  the  black  as  a  sort  of  basis.  The 
really  successful  draughtsmen  on  wood  were  men 
who  had  begun  as  wood  cutters,  like  William  Harvey 
or,  at  an  earlier  date,  Thomas  Bewick,  and  in  their 
work  the  effect  of  the  white  playing  over  the  black 
is  never  lost  sight  of. 

I  hope  I  have  made  it  clear  that  the  production 
of  a  plate  was  not  altogether  a  simple  process.  The 
plates  were  steel,  with  beautiful  polished  surfaces 
on  the  front.  The  first  process  was  the  application 
of  the  wax.    A  number  were  done  at  a  time  by  Young, 


MOTliKR    AM)    (  llli.h. 

Hoiiv  colour-  dcsi,t;n  for  a  fiictiiiT  in  i>//s.      I.iilc  iiiiiltlli-  JhiukI, 
RaUiciii from  iiiii.  x  8|/«. 


EARLY  VICTORIAN  ILLUSTRATIONS     167 

and  sent  to  the  Governor  in  a  specially  constructed 
box.  When  a  plate  was  etched,  it  would  be  sent 
back  to  Young  with  the  sketch.  It  would  then  be 
bitten.  The  lettering  was  done  by  an  assistant. 
Any  part  where  the  acid  had  not  satisfactorily 
taken  was  rectified  by  a  touch  from  the  engraver 
and  the  plate  sent  to  the  printer,  who  got  as  much 
work  out  of  it  as  it  would  stand.  By  this  division 
of  labour  Browne  was  able  to  etch  a  second  plate 
while  the  first  was  being  bitten  in.  Thus  he  was 
able  to  keep  pace  with  the  extraordinary  demands 
made  upon  him.  Robert  Young,  my  father's  friend 
and  partner,  attended  to  all  these  subsidiary  pro- 
cesses. He  came  down  to  Croydon  nearly  every 
Sunday,  and  sometimes  during  the  week.  Conse- 
quently there  was  a  continual  consultation  between 
the  two  men,  and  there  was  a  frequent  transmission 
by  special  messengers  and  carriers  of  the  boxes  that 
contained  the  plates. 


CHAPTER   XII 

CHARLES   LEVER,   THE   MAN   AND   HIS   BOOKS 

An  author  who  occupied  a  great  deal  of  Browne's 
attention  as  illustrator  was  Charles  Lever.  At  any 
other  time,  and  with  any  other  competitor  less  power- 
ful than  Dickens,  he  would  have  been  considered 
a  very  popular  writer.  Even  with  Dickens  in  the 
field  before  him,  and  the  dazzling  popularity  of  Pick- 
wick to  contend  against,  he  achieved  a  remarkable 
success  with  his  first  book,  and  had  not,  like  the 
majority  of  authors,  to  suffer  from  a  number  of  pre- 
liminary failures.  He  and  his  publisher  must  have 
had  plenty  of  confidence — or,  as  the  moderns  would 
put  it,  "  cheek  " — to  start  with  a  series  of  one  shilling 
monthly  numbers,  with  two  illustrations  etched  by 
Phiz,  at  once  an  imitation  and  an  assumption  of 
equality  with  Dickens.  The  matter  also  discarded  the 
old-fashioned  romantic  style,  and  followed  Pickwick^ s 
lead  in  being  broadly  farcical.  The  audacity  met 
with  its  reward.  A  year  or  two  afterwards  Thackeray, 
who  for  some  time  had  been  writing  for  magazines 
and  Punchy  tried  his  luck  with  Va?itty  Fair  in  shilling 
numbers  and  his  own  illustrations.     Except  for  a 

i68 


CHARLES  LEVER  169 

difference  in  colour,  the  appearance  of  the  three 
books  was  very  similar.  Dickens'  cover  was  a  dull 
green,  Lever's  a  bright  pink,  and  Thackeray's  a 
brimstone  yellow — all,  like  shows  at  a  fair,  decorated 
with  designs  indicating  what  was  to  be  seen  within. 

Lever  belonged  to  that  great  Anglo-Irish  race 
which  has  contributed  so  much  to  the  wit,  wisdom, 
and  efficiency  of  our  nation.  He  himself  had  a 
slightly  contemptuous  opinion  of  the  average  home- 
grown Englishman  as  wanting  in  dash  and  go. 
He  thought  of  us  as  Charles  Lamb  thought  of  the 
Scotchman,  but  admitted  that  we  could  manage 
a  joke  if  we  were  given  time.  He  possessed  the 
most  extraordinary  animal  spirits,  loved  adventures, 
dangers,  and  practical  jokes.  Though  really  a  tem- 
perate man,  he  was  pre-eminently  social,  and  en- 
joyed feasting  and  all  kinds  of  jollity,  for  which  in 
after  years  the  bill  was  sent  in,  and  had  to  be  paid 
in  the  torments  of  gout.  He  was  a  good-looking 
man,  with  a  typical  Irish  face,  small  eyes,  a  large 
powerful  jaw,  presenting  no  appearance  of  intellec- 
tuality when  in  repose,  but  easily  lighting  up,  be- 
coming genial  and  vivacious.  His  physique  was 
correspondingly  big,  and  he  was  remarkably  active. 
The  same  type  may  still  be  seen  by  anyone  who 
may  happen  to  pass  a  few  days  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  Trinity  College,  Dublin.     He  was  a  born  con- 


I70  PHIZ   AND   DICKENS 

versationalist  like  many  of  his  countrymen,  and  it 
required  scarcely  any  provocation  to  make  him  talk 
to  an  almost  unlimited  extent  ;  and  there  seemed 
no  reason  when  he  began,  why  he  should  ever 
leave  off.  There  was  a  continual  stream  of  wit, 
narrative,  and  quotation,  all  mingled,  but  forth- 
coming at  call  like  the  streams  from  a  conjurer's 
miraculous  bottle.  His  books  were  not  literary 
efforts,  but  extracts  from  his  habitual  talk.  Withal, 
he  was  modest,  and  never  talked  for  display,  but  to 
amuse  himself  and  friends  in  obedience  to  a  natural 
instinct.  He  began  life  as  a  medical  student,  and 
his  career  probably  resembled  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer's, 
with  perhaps  a  little  added  vivacity.  When  qualified 
he  set  up  in  practice  in  Ireland  with  a  minimum  of 
medical  knowledge,  but  he  had  an  abundance  of 
common-sense  and  a  taking  manner,  which  go  a  long 
way  in  the  making  of  a  successful  medical  man.  In 
the  intervals  of  doctoring  his  genius  for  narration 
began  to  assert  itself,  and  he  scribbled  sketches  for 
the  Dublin  University  Magazine,  and  in  particular 
some  chapters  of  a  book,  Harry  Lorrequer,  which 
gave  him  his  fame  and  a  sort  of  nom  de  guerre. 

Considering  his  temperament,  his  marriage  cannot 
be  accepted  as  proof  that  he  was  successful  in  making 
an  income,  but  marry  he  did,  and  very  happily. 
Whether  it  was  from  the  necessity  of  providing  for 


CHARLES   LEVER  171 

new  responsibilities,  or  from  mere  love  of  change, 
which  was  inherent  in  his  nature,  he  contrived  to 
secure  an  appointment  at  Brussels.  In  that  gay 
little  city  he  took  a  fine  house  near  the  Embassy, 
and  doctored  all  sorts  of  swells  who  were  passing 
through  to  the  curative  waters  of  the  Spas.  But 
Lorrequer  was  not  forgotten,  and  the  beginning 
was  reprinted  from  the  University  Magazine,  and 
the  publication  in  monthly  numbers  seriously  begun. 
From  the  beginning  he  leant  upon  Phiz  ;  he  was 
very  easily  satisfied  with  his  illustrations,  and  so 
long  as  they  agreed  with  the  general  drift  of  the  text, 
he  was  not  solicitous  about  details.  He  wanted 
something  attractive  and  striking  at  first  sight,  corre- 
sponding with  his  own  writing,  which  had  the  great 
charm  of  spontaneity  and  a  happy  irresponsibility. 
He  liked  both  text  and  pictures  to  be  so  plain  that 
he  who  ran  could  read,  and  great  numbers  did  read. 

Browne's  acquaintance  with  Lever  beginning  on 
a  purely  business  footing,  quickly  ripened  into  a 
durable  friendship. 

When  considering  the  plan  of  the  third  book, 
Jack  Hinton,  he  very  sensibly  invited  Browne  to  stay 
with  him  in  Brussels,  to  see  the  people  and  neigh- 
bourhood for  himself,  and  confer  over  the  drawings. 
Browne  accordingly  went  with  Samuel  Lover,  also 
a   congenial   spirit.     What   conferences  took   place 


172  PHIZ   AND   DICKENS 

we  know  not,  but  there  were  certainly  high  jinks. 
Lever,  besides  being  a  fashionable  doctor  and  author, 
had  constituted  himself  a  leader  of  society,  and  en- 
tertained lavishly.  His  assemblies  not  only  rivalled 
but  surpassed  those  of  the  Embassy,  and  though 
ostentatious  and  splendid,  were  entirely  free  and 
easy.  In  between  the  large  entertainments  there 
was  a  continual  run  of  dinners  and  suppers,  which 
seem  to  have  resembled  students'  entertainments 
in  the  matter  of  merriment  and  noise.  The  parties 
generally  bore  a  strong  resemblance  to  the  carousals 
described  by  Lever  in  his  books,  and  do  to  a  large 
extent  go  to  prove  that  he  took  what  lay  under  his 
hand  for  his  material,  and  that  his  books  were  not 
more  boisterous  than  the  company  he  kept. 

He  was  accused  by  his  critics  of  exaggeration, 
but  it  was  neither  possible  nor  necessary  to  enhance 
the  circumstances  as  they  stood.  Samuel  Lover 
wrote  home  a  wonderful  description  of  their  "  orgies  " 
at  Lever's  house.  "  They  laughed  themselves  sick 
over  Monsoon,  who  dined  there  daily.  They  held 
an  installation  of  the  Knights  of  Alcantara,  Lover, 
Lever,  and  '  Phiz  '  being  made  Grand  Crosses  of 
the  Order,  with  music  procession,  and  a  grand 
ballet  to  conclude.  They  did  nothing  all  day  or,  in 
some  instances,  all  night,  but  eat,  drink,  and  laugh." 
Lever  in  a  reply  to  a  letter  from  McGlashan  says, 


CHARLES   LEVER  173 

"  If  I  have  a  glass  of  champagne  left  (we  finished 
nine  dozen  in  sixteen  days  Lover  and  '  Phiz  ' 
spent  here),  I'll  drink  your  health."  For  the  first 
time  he  felt  that  Phiz  and  himself  had  become  sworn 
allies,  having  arranged  on  an  admirable  footing  all 
their  future  operations.  Lever  must  have  exercised 
a  considerable  fascination  over  Browne,  and  seems 
to  have  entirely  overcome  his  natural  shyness,  for 
though  we  can  scarcely  imagine  it,  he  seems  to  have 
fully  entered  into  the  spirit  of  the  time  and  place, 
and  presented  all  the  features  of  an  irresponsible 
roisterer. 

I  have  the  feeling  of  knowing  Lever  better  than 
any  of  the  authors,  but  in  reality  I  saw  very  little 
of  him,  though  I  heard  a  great  deal,  owing  to  my 
father  several  times  going  away  with  him,  and  the 
visits  being  always  of  an  unusual  and  hilarious 
nature,  we  had  an  abundance  of  amusing  anecdotes 
in  the  intervals.  Gradually  there  grew  up  an  ac- 
quaintance with  the  man's  doings  and  sayings,  not 
to  mention  the  people  he  associated  with.  He  did 
things  droller  than  anything  in  his  books,  and  his 
pranks  were  of  precisely  that  dashing  and  impulsive 
character  highly  congenial  to  the  boyish  imagination. 
He  amusingly  posed  as  one  who  became  entangled 
in  the  whirl  of  his  festivities,  and  as  being  really  a 
person  of  mild  and  decorous  manner,  and  on  one 


174  PHIZ   AND   DICKENS 

occasion,  when  the  reviewers  taxed  him  with  up- 
roarious and  riotous  Hving,  he  wrote  a  reply  saying 
the  character  of  his  books  for  uproarious  people 
and  incidents  were  mainly  due  to  the  drawings  of 
Master  Phiz.  I  think  this  audacious  statement  be- 
came a  sort  of  proverb  in  our  house,  and  when  Lever 
came  out  with  one  of  his  usual  escapades,  we  used  to 
say  "  Ah  !  ah  !  there  is  Master  Phiz  at  his  old  tricks 
again,"  and  we  might  have  begun  to  believe  there  was 
something  in  it,  had  we  not  reflected  that  the  etching 
was  always  the  consequence  of  the  story,  and  never 
the  reverse. 

I  subjoin  an  extract  from  Jack  Hinton^  a  description 
of  a  ball  given  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Paul  Rooney,  people 
who  were  endeavouring  to  make  their  way  in 
society  in  Dublin,  from  which  it  may  be  gathered  that 
Lever  did  not  need  any  assistance  from  Master  Phiz 
in  imagining  a  tumultuous  festivity. 

"  An  increased  noise  and  tumult  below  stairs  at 
the  same  moment  informed  me  that  the  supper-party 
were  at  length  about  to  separate.  I  started  up  at 
once,  wishing  to  see  Miss  Bellew  again  ere  I  took 
my  leave,  when  O 'Grady  seized  me  by  the  arm 
and  hurried  me  away.  '  Come  along,  Hinton  :  not 
a  moment  to  lose  ;  the  duke  is  going.'  *  Wait 
an  instant,'  said  I,  'I  wish  to  speak  to  ... ' 
'  Another  time,  my  dear  fellow,  another  time.    The 


CHARLES   LEVER  175 

duke  is  delighted  with  the  Rooneys,  and  we  are  going 
to  have  Paul  knighted  !  '  With  these  words  he 
dragged  me  along,  dashing  down  the  stairs  like  a 
madman.  As  we  reached  the  door  of  the  dining- 
room  w6  found  his  Grace,  who,  with  one  hand  on 
Lord  Dudley's  shoulder,  was  endeavouring  to  steady 
himself  by  the  other.  *  I  say,  O 'Grady,  is  that  you  ? 
Very  powerful  burgundy,  this  .  .  .  It's  not  possible 
it  can  be  morning  ?  '  *  Yes,  your  Grace,  half-past 
seven  o'clock.'  '  Indeed,  upon  my  word,  your 
friends  are  very  charming  people.  What  did  you 
say  about  knighting  someone  ?  Oh,  I  remember  ! 
Mr.  Rooney,  wasn't  it  .''  Of  course,  nothing  could 
be  better  ! '  '  Come,  Hinton,  have  you  got  a  sword  ? ' 
said  O'Grady, '  I've  mislaid  mine  somehow.  There, 
that'll  do.  Let  us  try  and  find  Paul  now.'  Into 
the  supper-room  we  rushed  :  but  what  a  change 
was  there  !  The  brilliant  tables,  resplendent  with 
gold  plate,  candelabras,  and  flowers,  were  now  de- 
spoiled and  dismantled.  On  the  floor,  among 
broken  glasses,  cracked  decanters,  pyramids  of  jelly, 
and  pagodas  of  blancmange,  lay  scattered  in  every 
attitude  the  sleeping  figures  of  the  late  guests. 
Mrs.  Rooney  alone  maintained  her  position,  seated 
in  a  large  chair,  her  eyes  closed,  a  smile  of  Elysian 
happiness  playing  upon  her  lips.  Her  right  arm 
hung  gracefully  over  the  side  of  the  chair,  where 


176  PHIZ  AND   DICKENS 

lately  his  Grace  had  kissed  her  hand  at  parting  ! 
Overcome,  in  all  probability,  by  the  more  than  human 
happiness  of  such  a  moment,  she  had  sunk  into 
slumber,  and  was  murmuring  in  her  dreams  such 
short  and  broken  phrases  as  the  following  :  '  Ah ! 
happy  day  .  .  .  What  will  Mrs.  Tait  say  ?  .  .  . 
The  Lord  Mayor  indeed  !  .  .  .  Oh  !  my  poor 
head  :  I  hope  it  won^t  be  turned  .  .  .  Holy 
Agatha,  pray  for  us  !  your  Grace,  pray  for  us  !  .  .  . 
Isn't  he  a  beautiful  man  ?  hasn't  he  the  darling 
white  teeth  ?  '  *  Where's  Paul  ?  '  said  O'Grady. 
'  Where's  Paul,  Mrs.  Rooney  ?  '  as  he  jogged  her 
rather  rudely  by  the  arm.  '  Ah  !  who  cares  for 
Paul  ?  '  said  she,  still  sleeping  :  *  don't  be  bother- 
ing about  the  like  of  him.'  '  Egad  !  this  is  conjugal, 
at  any  rate,'  said  Phil.  *  I  have  him,'  cried  I, '  here 
he  is  !  '  as  I  stumbled  over  a  short  thick  figure  who 
was  propped  up  in  a  corner  of  the  room.  There 
he  sat,  his  head  sunk  upon  his  bosom,  his  hands 
listlessly  resting  on  the  floor.  A  large  jug  stood 
beside  him,  in  the  concoction  of  whose  contents 
he  appeared  to  have  spent  the  last  moments  of  his 
waking  state.  We  shook  him,  and  called  him  by 
his  name,  but  to  no  purpose  ;  and  as  we  lifted  up 
his  head,  we  burst  out  a-laughing  at  the  droll  expres- 
sion on  his  face  ;  for  he  had  fallen  asleep  in  the 
act  of  squeezing  a  lemon  in  his  teeth,  the  half  of  which 


CHARLES   LEVER  177 

not  only  remained  there  still,  but  imparted  to  his 
features  the  twisted  and  contorted  expression  that 
act  suggests.  '  Are  you  coming,  O 'Grady  ?  '  cried 
the  duke  impatiently.  '  Yes,  my  lord,'  cried  Phil, 
as  he  rushed  towards  the  door  ...  *  This  is  too 
bad,  Hinton,  that  confounded  fellow  could  not 
possibly  be  moved  ;  I'll  try  and  carry  him.'  As  he 
spoke,  he  hurried  back  towards  the  sleeping  figure 
of  Mr.  Rooney,  while  I  made  towards  the  duke. 
As  Lord  Dudley  had  gone  to  order  up  the  carriages, 
his  Grace  was  standing  alone  at  the  foot  of  the 
stairs,  leaning  his  back  against  the  banisters,  his  eyes 
opening  and  shutting  alternately  as  his  head  nodded 
every  now  and  then  forward,  overcome  by  sleep 
and  the  wine  he  had  drunk.  Exactly  in  front  of  him, 
but  crouching  in  the  attitude  of  an  Indian  monster, 
sat  Corny  Delany.  To  keep  himself  from  the  cold 
he  had  wrapped  himself  up  in  his  master's  cloak, 
and  the  only  part  of  his  face  perceptible  was  the 
little  wrinkled  forehead,  and  the  malicious-looking 
fiery  eyes  beneath  it,  firmly  fixed  on  the  duke's 
countenance.  '  Give  me  your  sword,'  said  his  Grace, 
turning  to  me,  in  a  tone  half  sleeping,  half  com- 
manding ;  *  give  me  your  sword,  sir.'  Drawing  it 
from  the  scabbard,  I  presented  it  respectfully. 
'  Stand  a  little  on  one  side,  Hinton.  Where  is  he  ? 
Ah  !    quite   right.     Kneel   down,   sir,   kneel   down, 

M 


178  PHIZ   AND   DICKENS 

I  say  !  '  These  words,  addressed  to  Corny,  pro- 
duced no  other  movement  in  him  than  a  shght 
change  in  his  attitude,  to  enable  him  to  extend  his 
expanded  hand  above  his  eyes,  and  take  a  clearer 
view  of  the  duke.  *  Does  he  hear  me,  Hinton  ? 
.  .  .  Do  you  hear  me,  sir  ?  '  '  Do  you  hear  his 
Grace  ?  '  said  I,  endeavouring  with  a  sharp  kick 
of  my  foot  to  assist  his  perceptions.  '  To  be  sure 
I  hear  him,'  said  Corny.  '  Why  wouldn't  I  hear 
him  ?  '  '  Kneel  down  then,'  said  I.  '  Devil  a  bit 
of  me '11  kneel  down.  Don't  I  know  what  he's  after 
well  enough  ?  Ach  ma  bocklish  !  Sorrow  else  he 
ever  does  nor  make  fun  of  people.'  '  Kneel  down, 
sir  !  '  said  his  Grace,  in  an  accent  there  was  no 
refusing  to  obey.  '  What  is  your  name  .^  '  '  O 
murther  !  O  heavenly  Joseph  ! '  cried  Corny,  as  I 
hurled  him  down  upon  his  knees, '  that  I'd  ever  lived 

to   see   the   day  !  '     '  What   is   his   d d   name  ?  ' 

said  the  duke  passionately.  '  Corny,  your  Grace, 
Corny  Delany.'  *  There,  that'll  do,'  as  with  a  hearty 
slap  of  the  sword,  not  on  his  shoulder,  but  on  his 
bullet  head,  he  cried  out, '  Rise,  Sir  Corny  Delany  !  ' 
'  Och,  the  devil  a  one  of  me  will  ever  get  up  out  of 
this  same  spot.  O  wirra,  wirra  !  how  will  I  ever 
show  myself  again  after  the  disgrace  ?  '  Leaving 
Corny  to  his  lamentations,  the  duke  walked  towards 


CHARLES   LEVER  179 

the  door.  Here  about  a  hundred  people  were  now 
assembled,  their  curiosity  excited  in  no  small  degree 
by  a  picket  of  light  dragoons,  who  occupied  the  middle 
of  the  street,  and  were  lying  upon  the  ground,  or 
leaning  on  their  saddles,  in  all  the  wearied  attitudes 
of  a  night-watch.  In  fact,  the  duke  had  forgotten 
to  dismiss  his  guard  of  honour,  who  had  accompanied 
him  to  the  theatre,  and  thus  had  spent  the  dark 
hours  of  the  night  keeping  watch  and  ward  over 
the  proud  dwelling  of  the  Rooneys.  A  dark  frown 
settled  on  the  duke's  features  as  he  perceived  his 
mistake,  and  muttered  between  his  teeth, '  How  they 
will  talk  of  this  in  England  !  '  The  next  moment, 
bursting  into  a  hearty  fit  of  laughter,  he  stepped 
into  the  carriage,  and  amid  a  loud  cheer  from  the 
mob,  by  whom  he  was  recognised,  drove  rapidly 
away." 

The  reader  will  probably  join  with  the  present 
writer  in  considering  that  this  brief  extract  bears 
a  considerable  resemblance  to  the  glimpse  afforded 
of  the  real  things  by  Lover's  letter.  Even  the  cere- 
monial of  knighthood  is  not  omitted. 

On  another  occasion,  when  Browne  was  touring 
with  Lever  in  Ireland,  they  were  starting  on  a 
journey  by  one  of  Bianconi's  cars,  the  proprietor 


i8o  PHIZ   AND   DICKENS 

asked  if  they  were  the  identical  gentlemen  concerned 
in  the  novels,  and  hearing  they  were,  he  declined  to 
take  a  fare,  a  pleasant  instance  of  a  prophet  being 
honoured  in  his  own  country.  As  a  result  of  the 
tours  Browne  acquired  a  considerable  knowledge 
of  the  Irish  people,  and  made  a  series  of  about  thirty 
designs  in  chalk,  with  the  intention  of  reproducing 
them  by  etching,  but  owing  to  difficulties  of  executing 
etchings  of  the  necessarily  large  size,  the  project 
fell  through.  Unfortunately  he  did  not  consider 
the  feasibility  of  employing  lithography,  which  he 
found  later  on  to  be  admirably  suited  to  his  style. 
The  whole  series  was  sold  at  Christie's  and  scattered, 
but  a  small  number  were  included  in  the  Liverpool 
Exhibition  of  his  works  in  1883,  and  excited  great 
admiration. 

The  strongest  bonds  of  union  between  the  two 
men  were  a  cheery  optimism  about  life  and  the  love 
of  the  horse.  Both  enjoyed  rough  riding  across 
country.  Though  it  was  expedient  for  Lever  to 
reside  abroad,  he  always  suffered  from  the  nostalgia 
of  the  Irish  hunting  field  ;  he  made  flying  visits 
to  the  old  country  from  time  to  time,  but  settled 
nowhere  till  he  was  appointed  Vice-Consul  at 
Spezzia  in  1858. 

All  this  time  he  continued  to  write  by  fits  and  starts, 


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CHARLES   LEVER  i8i 

and  made  sufficient  money  to  cut  a  dashing  appear- 
ance, and  entertain  on  an  extensive  scale,  which 
he  declared  to  be  a  mode  of  economising,  as  it  kept 
him  fresh  and  supplied  him  with  characters  for  his 
books,  and  there  was  some  justice  in  the  paradoxical 
contention,  as,  unHke  Dickens,  who  modified  his 
models.  Lever  lifted  his  characters  and  their  doings 
bodily  into  his  books,  and  he  sometimes  was  with 
difficulty  persuaded  to  alter  their  names.  He  took 
anybody  who  seemed  to  offer  a  chance  of  amusement, 
and  it  is  reported  that  he  had  once  the  audacity  to 
have  intended  laying  hands  on  the  Duke  of  Welling- 
ton, and  it  was  only  stopped  by  a  serious  remon- 
strance. This  genial  light-heartedness  endeared 
him  to  his  contemporary  readers,  who  did  not  want 
studies  of  character,  psychological  analysis,  or  accu- 
rate typographical  descriptions,  but  fun.  Among 
his  numerous  excellences  may  be  mentioned  his 
power  of  writing  verse,  which  he  shared  as  a  novelist 
with  Thackeray  and  Harrison  Ainsworth.  He  was 
peculiarly  happy  in  imitating  the  kind  of  rhymes 
that  might  fit  the  mouth  of  an  Irish  ballad  singer, 
but  the  line  and  sentiment  of  course  were  his  own, 
and  had  oftener  a  deeper  meaning  than  was  apparent 
on  the  surface  ;  for  instance,  the  following  might 
easily  be  expanded  into  dull  prose,  and  remain  an 


i82  PHIZ  AND   DICKENS 

excellent   description   of  the   "  finest   peasantry   in 
the  world  " : — 

"  Och,  Dublin  city,  there  is  no  doubtin', 
Bates  every  city  upon  the  say ; 
'Tis  there  you'd  hear  O'Connell  spoutin', 
An'  Lady  Morgan  makin'  tay. 

For  'tis  the  capital  o'  the  finest  nation, 

Wid  charming  pisintry  upon  a  fruitful  sod, 

Fightin'  like  divils  for  conciliation. 

An'  hatin'  each  other  for  the  love  of  God." 

He  lived  for  some  time  at  Florence,  as  usual 
cutting  a  dash,  and  I  heard  from  an  outside  source 
that  his  daughters,  who  were  thoroughly  Irish,  and 
resembled  their  father  in  high  spirits  and  a  genuine 
love  of  sport,  had  an  immense  reputation  as  horse- 
women in  the  neighbourhood,  and  he  himself  told 
us  that  on  one  occasion  at  Spezzia  he  and  the  two 
girls  were  upset  from  a  boat  in  the  bay.  I  am  not 
at  all  sure  that  the  bay  was  not  specially  enlarged, 
but  at  all  events  he  produced  an  impression  of  very 
great  remoteness  from  the  shore.  They  set  off  to 
swim,  he  being  behind,  in  some  trepidation,  but  the 
girls  were  laughing  and  looked  back,  cheerfully 
inviting  him  to  come  on.  We  may  judge  from  this 
they  had  inherited  their  father's  activity  and  courage. 
I  tell  the  tale  as  it  was  told  to  me,  but  there  were 


CHARLES  LEVER  183 

several  versions  set  in  circulation  in  course  of  time. 
As  Mr.  Fitzpatrick  says,  "  In  describing  adventures, 
Lever  unconsciously  embellished  "  ;  this  was  cer- 
tainly undeniable.  The  truth  of  the  story  was  as 
follows.  Lever,  one  daughter,  and  a  dog  were  upset 
into  the  sea  about  a  mile  out.  As  they  were  good 
swimmers  and  habitually  wore  swimming  costumes 
they  could  afford  to  wait,  and  took  the  accident 
calmly,  supported  themselves  and  the  dog  by  grasp- 
ing oars,  and  waited  till  a  boat  was  sent  in  aid  from 
the  shore.  Mr.  Fitzpatrick  in  confirmation  of  the 
embellishing  habit  quotes  a  letter  from  Mr.  Hartpole 
Lecky,  the  historian: — 

"  I  well  remember  how  a  large  tableful  of  Italian 
naval  officers  were  electrified  by  his  conversation, 
and  especially  by  the  fire  and  vividness  with  which 
he  told  a  story,  which  I  afterwards  found  in  one  of 
his  books,  of  how  he,  his  daughter  and  his  poodle 
dog  were  one  day  upset  in  the  Gulf,  and  how  they 
swam.  Miss  Lever  carrying  the  dog  on  her  back. 
When  Lever  left  the  table,  I  was  greatly  amused 
by  the  exclamation  of  one  of  the  officers,  who  had 
known  him  of  old.  "  What  a  wonderful  man  that 
is  !  I  have  heard  that  anecdote  again  and  again, 
but  it  seems  always  fresh — there  are  always  new 
incidents.'  " 


i84  PHIZ  AND   DICKENS 

When  Lever  was  on  Lake  Constance,  he  wrote 
to  Browne  inviting  him  to  come  and  join  him  in  a 
tour  through  Switzerland  and  Tyrol,  offering  as  a 
special  attraction  to  drive  him  with  his  own  nags. 
Browne  replied,  "  I  wish  I  could  accept  it,  but  alas  ! 
Heigho-ho,  Harry  !  I  can't.  I  have  just  taken  a 
sort  of  holiday,  and  now  must  buckle  on  my  harness 
again,  and  work !  work !  work !  I  will  do  the 
pretty  for  O'Donoghue  title-page.  I  am  in  dreadful 
poor-law-union  state  of  inanition  regarding  literary 
news.  Of  course  you  read  or  heard  of  Dickens* 
theatricals  ?  Bulwer,  for  want  of  something  else 
to  do,  is  blowing  the  trumpet  for  the  water  doctors  ! 
*  To  what  strange  uses,'  &c.  He  must  either  have 
water  on  the  brain  or  a  cataract  in  his  eye." 

Later  on.  Lever  was  appointed  Consul  at  Trieste. 
In  spite  of  living  in  beautiful  climates  and  taking 
an  immense  amount  of  exercise,  all  his  life  long 
he  was  a  sufferer  from  gout,  which  ultimately 
attacked  vital  organs  and  caused  his  death.  During 
the  last  years  of  his  life  he  continued  to  make 
occasional  visits  to  London  and  Dublin.  It  is  re- 
lated that  one  evening  just  before  dining  at  the  club 
he  was  noticed  to  be  depressed,  and  he  remarked 
on  the  absence  of  many  old  friends.  Some  one 
said,  pointing  to  a  pile  of  his  books  behind  him, 
"  There  are  some  old  friends  who  will  not  pass 


CHARLES  LEVER  185 

away,"  and  began  to  praise  Harry  Lorrequer.  "  Ah  !  " 
he  said,  with  his  usual  modesty,  "  a  poor  thing, 
but  how  well  Browne  illustrated  it  !  " 

He  died  at  Trieste  in  1872,  having  survived  Dickens 
by  two  years. 

Lever's  popularity  as  a  writer  in  his  own  time  was 
enormous,  and  was  due  to  the  amusing  character  of 
his  works.  Some  of  these  were  published  anony- 
mously, and  were  therefore  taken  on  their  own 
merit,  and  not  on  the  faith  of  his  name.  That  he 
did  not  equal  the  popularity  of  Dickens,  and  has 
not  survived  so  well,  is  due  to  the  fact  that  his  books 
consist  largely  of  scenes  and  incidents,  and  not  of 
striking  and  amusing  characters.  We  have  scenes 
of  revelry,  amazing  runs  with  the  hounds,  races, 
the  jockeying  of  horses,  and  trickery,  kidnapping 
and  evading  of  bailiffs,  incidents  of  war  and  battles, 
all  mingled  with  a  fine  sense  of  the  amusing  side 
of  love-making.  But  the  characters  are  not  so 
clearly  drawn  or  so  ingeniously  compounded  as  to 
linger  in  the  memory.  Lever  took  very  little  pains 
in  preparation.  He  seized  the  point  of  an  incident, 
embellished  and  decorated  it,  but  he  would  often 
put  in  the  names  of  the  actors  and  the  locality  without 
taking  the  trouble  to  make  any  alteration.  All  this 
was  in  striking  contrast  to  the  painstaking  and  elabo- 
rate preparation   of  Dickens,  but  from  any  of  his 


i86  PHIZ  AND   DICKENS 

books,  in  the  midst  of  all  the  frolic  and  exaggeration, 
can  be  found  an  accurate  and  sympathetic  picture  of 
the  Irish  people,  and  there  are  several  really  eloquent 
passages  pointing  out  the  mode  that  should  be  fol- 
lowed in  order  to  gain  their  affection  and  loyalty. 
In  the  present  day  he  would  be  termed  an  anti- 
Home  Ruler,  though  he  strongly  disapproved  of  the 
methods  of  government  adopted  by  the  English. 

He  believed  that  it  was  possible  for  the  Union  to 
be  maintained  and  the  Irish  brought  to  loyalty  by  a 
sympathetic  and  intelligent  treatment. 

Two  books.  The  Knight  of  Gwynne  and  The  Dodd 
Family  Abroad ^  may  be  read  for  mere. amusement, 
but  they  may  be  also  profitably  studied  for  their 
pictures  of  the  sources  of  Irish  discontent  and  unrest. 
Kenny  Dodd  is  probably  the  best  example  of  an 
Irish  absentee  landlord  in  literature.  He  goes 
abroad  to  economise,  spends  more  than  he  did  at 
home,  and  gets  deeper  and  deeper  into  debt,  and 
continually  pesters  his  agent  to  screw  up  the  rents. 

Lever  never  fell  into  the  error  frequently  made 
by  Dickens,  of  attempting  to  foist  on  to  his  books 
some  fragments  of  a  plot.  There  was  no  more 
coherence  than  there  is  in  real  life.  There  was  no 
particular  climax,  which  did  not  matter,  as  there 
was  no  particular  beginning.  The  reader's  atten- 
tion  was    occupied    by    adventures    and    incidents, 


CHARLES  LEVER  187 

and  not  by  endeavouring  to  remember  their  sequence 
or  significance.  He  also  differed  from  Dickens, 
who  was  wont  to  describe  minutely  common  and 
familiar  objects  as  if  they  were  seen  for  the  first 
time.  Lever  seldom  indulged  in  any  particular 
description.  He  dealt  in  generalities.  Mountains 
might  be  rugged  or  fantastic.  A  house  might  be 
a  cabin  or  a  castle,  but  everything  was  general, 
and  there  was  nothing  sufficiently  detailed  to  aid 
the  reader  in  identification.  His  characters  lost 
something  of  their  individuality  in  the  rush  and 
breathlessness  of  their  adventures.  His  manner 
resembles  more  closely  that  of  Alexandre  Dumas 
than  of  any  other  of  his  contemporaries.  Both 
writers  were  adepts  at  getting  the  characters  into 
scrapes  and  extricating  them  by  plunging  them  into 
others,  and  both  seized  political  plots  and  conspir- 
acies as  affording  suitable  atmosphere  for  such  doings, 
and  if  the  Frenchman  be  the  better  story-teller  of 
the  two,  he  lacked  the  saving  grace  of  humour 
which  played  so  great  a  part  in  our  countryman's 
narrative. 

Browne  remarked  more  than  once  that  Lever 
always  had  bad  illustrations,  which  was  not  true, 
although  not  altogether  without  justification.  The 
fact  was  that  many  were  despatched  unfinished  on 
account   of   the  author's   dilatoriness  in   furnishing 


i88  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

copy.  Lever,  although  he  wrote  with  considerable 
facility,  and  was  not  sedulous  as  regards  style,  jibbed 
and  procrastinated  at  the  beginning,  delaying  the 
start  till  the  last  moment  ;  moreover,  what  he  habitu- 
ally wrote  abroad  was  printed  in  Dublin,  and  Browne 
lived  on  the  outskirts  of  London,  and  the  punctuality 
of  the  post  was  by  no  means  what  it  has  since  become, 
so  that  the  drawings  were  undertaken  and  executed 
in  a  scramble.  Hence  whole  portions  of  plates 
would  be  left  almost  blank,  with  mere  suggestions 
of  what  ought  to  be  there.  On  one  occasion  the 
manuscript  was  actually  lost  in  transmission,  having 
been  mixed  up  in  some  Government  papers,  and 
the  whole  number  had  to  be  re- written.  The  illus- 
trations to  the  first  book,  Lorrequer,  were  broad  carica- 
ture (ill  drawn,  very  spirited,  and  for  the  most  part 
amusing).  They  are  evidently  executed  purely  from 
imagination,  and  the  figures  bear  no  resemblance 
to  foreigners  or  Irishmen.  Scarcely  anything 
indicates  the  lines  of  Browne's  future  development, 
except  some  slight  instances  of  landscape  and 
architecture  in  the  background.  Charles  O'M alley 
is  obviously  a  period  of  transition.  In  Jack  Hinton, 
undertaken  after  the  visit  to  Brussels,  the  illustra- 
tions show  an  abrupt  change  of  style,  a  marked  im- 
provement in  drawing,  without  any  diminution,  but 
with   considerable   restraint   of  the  comic   powers. 


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CHARLES    LEVER  189 

Here  we  see  the  beginning  of  numerous  drawings 
of  the  horse  in  action,  which  both  for  author  and 
artist  is  as  much  hero  as  man.  The  horses  are 
invariably  full  of  go,  excellently  drawn,  and  very 
finely  etched.  They  bear  marks  of  first-hand  obser- 
vation and  idealisation.  Their  only  fault  is  that 
they  are  too  invariably  high-bred. 

From  this  time  onwards  there  was  a  series,  of  level 
excellence,  of  Browne's  characteristic  work,  culmi- 
nating in  the  illustrations  to  the  Knight  of  Gwynne, 
which  have  that  curious  felicity  in  fitting  the  book 
noticeable  in  many  of  the  illustrations  to  Dickens. 
Even  without  making  any  allowance  for  the  scramble 
in  which  they  were  executed,  the  average  high  quality 
of  the  invention  and  technical  work  is  very  remark- 
able. As  an  instance  of  the  happy-go-lucky  way  in 
which  the  work  was  carried  on,  a  letter  from  Browne 
to  Lever  may  be  quoted.  Browne  writes  :  "  As  to 
myself,  when  I  saw  it  I  was  convulsed  with  laughter. 
I  do  not  know  whether  to  attribute  the  mistake  to 
carelessness,  stupidity,  inebriety,  or  the  practical- 
joking  peculiarities  of  the  writing  engraver.  I 
think  it  is  a  compound.  Orr  sent  to  me  for  a  title 
to  the  plate  ;  and  as  I  was  rather  at  a  loss  how  to 
name  the  child,  I  wrote  on  a  slip  of  paper  thus  : 
I.  '  Mark  recognises  an  old  acquaintance  '  ;  or 
simply  2.  '  The  Glen  '  ;    or  (addressing  Orr)  '  any- 


190  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

thing  else  you  like,  my  little  dears  ' — meaning  that 
Orr  might  give  a  better  if  he  could  ;  and  behold  ! 
the  writing  engraver  makes  a  Chinese  copy  of  the 
whole  !  " 

Fortunately  the  illustration  occurs  at  the  very  end 
of  The  O'Donoghue,  and  there  it  remains  to  be  seen 
of  all  to  the  present  day. 

Samuel  Lover,  above  mentioned  as  the  companion 
of  Lever  and  Phiz  in  the  revels  at  Brussels,  was  a 
versatile  man  who  earned  considerable  distinction  in 
several  directions.  By  profession  he  was  a  portrait 
painter,  and  practised  his  art  in  Dublin ;  he  was  also 
a  prolific  song  writer,  and  I  believe  a  composer. 
But  his  main  reputation  was  founded  on  a  very 
popular  novel  of  Irish  life  called  Handy  Andy. 
For  many  years  afterwards  the  name  of  the  hero 
was  applied  to  any  peculiarly  awkward  person. 
In  one  edition  he  etched  his  own  illustrations,  but 
in  an  issue  in  a  periodical  I  have  seen  some  wood- 
cuts by  Phiz.     They  are,  however,  of  no  value. 


CHAPTER   XIII 

HARRISON   AINSWORTH— A   MAN   OF 

MANY    PARTS 

Harrison  Ainsworth  was  senior  to  Dickens  both 
in  age  and  authorship,  but  a  pleasant  friendship 
existed  between  the  two  men.  My  father  became 
acquainted  with  Ainsworth  through  Dickens  some 
time  about  the  completion  of  Pickzvick.  When 
Dickens,  Forster,  and  Browne  visited  Manchester, 
Ainsworth  gave  them  introductions  to  his  family 
and  friends.  It  may  be  useful  to  recall  Dickens' 
stage  of  progress  at  the  time.  He  began  Nicholas 
Nicklehy  with  an  exposure  of  the  Yorkshire  schools, 
which  was  intended  to  make,  and  succeeded  in  making, 
a  great  sensation.  This  formed  a  good  introduction 
to  the  book,  but  had  no  intimate  connection  with 
the  story  and  led  to  nowhere,  being,  in  fact,  merely 
tacked  on  as  an  episode  in  the  life  of  the  hero,  and 
though  Dickens  had  prospered  without  a  plot  in 
Pickwick^  it  was  not  likely  that  he  could  hope  to 
tempt  fortune  again  with  success.  Even  m Pickwick 
he  had  provided  the  conventional  happy  ending 
by  the  marriages  of  Mr.  Winkle  to  Miss  Allen  and 


192  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

Sam  Weller  to  Mary  the  housemaid.  Practised 
readers  are  aware  that  though  the  plot  may  be  ob- 
scured in  the  narrative,  it  was  always  present  in 
Dickens'  mind,  and  he  considered  himself  a  novelist, 
and  bound  to  provide  the  ordinary  wares.  There- 
fore he  had  to  look  forward  to  the  ultimate  restora- 
tion of  Nicholas  to  a  good  position  in  the  world, 
and  to  give  him  the  opportunities  of  a  little  love- 
making  in  a  respectable  sphere  of  life,  and  Dickens 
was,  though  appearances  were  against  him,  always 
provident  in  the  matter  of  his  story,  and  knew  what 
he  wanted .  He  liked  to  acquire  material ,  even  though 
he  did  not  utilise  it.  Therefore  early  on  he  began 
to  look  about  for  some  benevolent  person  who 
might  extend  a  helping  hand  to  Nicholas  at  the  neces- 
sary moment,  and  as  people  of  this  sort  are  not 
abundant  in  real  life,  and  as  Dickens  never  liked 
to  work  without  having  a  foundation  of  reality,  it 
came  about  that  Ainsworth  gave  him  introductions 
for  the  especial  purpose  of  letting  him  see  the  brothers 
Grant,  before  mentioned.  By  this  means  the  in- 
tended fairy  godfather  was  increased  to  two,  and 
everybody  knows  the  happy  use  that  was  made 
of  the  Cheeryble  brothers,  by  whom  Nicholas  was 
placed  in  such  a  position  that  he  could,  in  the  last 
number,  marry  Madeline  Bray  in  the  orthodox 
novel  fashion,  to  the  satisfaction  of  all  parties. 


HARRISON   AINSWORTH  193 

Ainsworth  was  himself  a  typical  dandy  of  the 
period.  He  exactly  resembled  one  of  Thackeray's 
heroes  in  voluminous  and  splendid  garments  and  a 
great  superfluity  of  hair.  Whether  he  unconsciously 
stood  as  a  model  for  Thackeray  I  do  not  know, 
but  he  can  be  seen  in  the  illustrations  to  Pendennis. 
He  was  altogether  a  splendid  person,  very  different 
from  the  ordinary  dweller  in  Grub  Street.  He  had 
the  reputation  of  being  a  man  of  means,  and,  like 
his  two  great  contemporaries,  delighted  to  entertain 
on  a  lavish  scale.  In  the  present  day  he  has  no  great 
reputation  as  an  author,  and  many  will  be  surprised 
to  learn  that  his  popularity,  at  all  events  from  the 
point  of  view  of  sales,  was  at  one  time  comparable 
even  with  that  of  Dickens  himself,  though  of  course 
he  never  possessed  the  personal  magnetism  of  the 
other  members  of  the  trio. 

My  father  had  a  very  high  opinion  of  his  ability, 
and  I  at  one  time  thought  he  overrated  him  ;  but 
I  have  since  been  able  to  understand  the  reasons 
for  his  estimate,  for  Ainsworth  had  certain  qualities 
which  marked  him  off  from  the  general  herd  of 
authors.  He  was  an  educated  man  in  the  accepted 
meaning  of  the  term,  and  possessed  a  whole  quantity 
of  out-of-the-way  and  interesting  information  about 
the  times  of  the  Renaissance,  the  customs  of  guilds, 
societies,   and   so  forth.     He  knew  the   byways  of 

N 


194  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

history,  and  could  move  easily  in  the  midst  of  historical 
personages  from  a  long  acquaintanceship,  and  not 
by  dint  of  cram.  He  was  familiar  with  low  Latin 
and  old  French  verses,  which  he  could  adapt  to 
his  purpose,  and  he  was  very  careful  to  have  all 
his  details  correct. 

But  the  odd,  out-of-the-way  learning,  his 
picturesqueness,  poetasting,  which  attracted  Browne, 
did  not,  as  might  be  supposed,  serve  to  make  him 
the  favourite  of  the  general  public.  That  was  due 
to  his  familiarity  with  crime,  acquired  vicariously  in 
early  life,  when  he  was  intended  for  the  law,  and  so 
when  the  fashion  set  in  for  criminal  heroes,  he  was 
ready  primed  and  beat  all  competitors.  There  was 
Dickens  with  Oliver  Twist,  Bulwer  with  Paul  Clifford, 
and  yet  Ainsworth  surpassed  everybody  with  Jack 
Sheppard.  This  rascal  seems  to  have  been  a  criminal 
of  the  usual  low,  unscrupulous  kind,  who  owed  his 
celebrity  to  his  unrivalled  power  of  breaking 
from  prison.  In  this  occupation  he  showed  extra- 
ordinary bravery,  inventiveness,  manual  dexterity, 
and  perseverance,  so  that  when  his  exploits  were 
placed  before  the  public  in  Ainsworth 's  picturesque 
manner,  he  easily  became  a  popular  hero. 

The  conditions  necessary  for  a  popular  success  are 
a  certain  amount  of  ability  in  the  author — it  may  be 
very  great,  though  less  might  serve — and  a  public 


HARRISON   AINSWORTH  195 

already  primed,  perhaps  unconsciously,  with  the 
subject.  Say  what  we  like,  mankind  in  the  mass  is 
profoundly  interested  in  crime,  but  it  is  only  occa- 
sionally that  it  will  become  enamoured  of  a  low-class 
criminal.  There  was  undoubtedly  at  the  time  of  the 
publication  of  Jack  Sheppard  a  widespread  curiosity 
about  the  criminal  classes.  Ainsworth  was  able  to 
supply  the  necessary  information  about  these  people, 
not  from  knowledge  acquired  to  meet  the  present 
opportunity,  but  from  a  mind  long  stored  with  facts 
and  incidents.  He  wrote  as  one  of  his  own  audience, 
better  informed  than  the  rest,  but  having  precisely 
the  same  tastes.  He  had  taught  himself  thieves' 
slang  as  he  had  taught  himself  old  French,  and 
used  it  naturally,  and  as  he  had  a  strong  talent  for 
versification,  he  simultaneously  became  the  bio- 
grapher of  the  burglar  and  the  author  of  popular 
songs. 

My  father  had  a  detestation  of  Jack  Sheppard. 
I  never  read  a  line  of  it,  but  I  was  very  familiar  with 
some  of  the  songs.  Indeed,  it  was  impossible  to 
escape  them,  even  twenty  years  after  their  publication. 
Rookwood  we  had  on  our  own  shelves,  and  it  was 
always,  as  the  circulating  libraries  say,  "  in  request." 
We  read  it  to  ourselves,  and  we  read  it  aloud.  We 
did  not  regard  its  hero,  Dick  Turpin,  as  a  criminal, 
but  rather  as  a  variety  of  the  species  of  Knight 


196  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

Errant.      I   suppose  we  read  the  whole  book,  but 
remember  only  the  celebrated  ride  to  York. 

Our  elders  must  have  shared  our  views,  for  we 
had  full  permission  to  read  the  story  as  often  as  we 
liked,  and  no  word  of  its  corrupting  influence  was 
ever  breathed.  Dick  Turpin  and  his  mare.  Black 
Bess,  were  universally  known,  and  if  some  stern 
moralists  condemned  the  robber,  they  admired  the 
horseman.  The  Ride  to  York  became  a  stock  piece 
at  "  Astley's,"  and  even  now  may  be  seen  in  the  tra- 
velling circus,  and  probably  will  be  seen  till  the  horse 
has  become  a  legendary  animal.  Whether  the  ride 
to  York  was  ever  accomplished  may  be  uncertain, 
but  Ainsworth  has  converted  it  into  history.  He 
has  achieved  the  remarkable  feat  of  making  fiction 
appear  like  truth,  by  keeping  rigidly  to  the  truth 
about  all  minor  facts,  so  as  to  render  the  central 
fiction  acceptable  as  truth,  in  the  same  manner  as  an 
accomplished  liar  will  often  pass  off  a  good  thump- 
ing lie  by  the  circumstantiality  of  his  confirmatory 
details. 

Ainsworth  was  a  changeable  creature.  It  was 
sometimes  difficult  to  say  what  he  was  at  a  particular 
moment,  and  quite  impossible  to  predict  what  he 
would  become.  He  had  as  many  mutations  as  a 
butterfly,  which  at  certain  periods  he  resembled. 
He  was  a  lawyer,  but  anyone  wishing  to  consult 


THE  TRAMPERS 

Design  in  pen  an  J  ink — signed  1842 


HARRISON   AINSWORTH  197 

him  on  a  legal  point  might  have  found  he  was  a 
publisher  and  bookseller.  Then  he  was  editor  of 
a  magazine,  a  dandy  about  town,  rivalling  Count 
D'Orsay,  the  supposed  head  of  the  species,  and 
finally  author.  His  books  underwent  curious  changes 
like  their  writer,  not  only  in  composition,  but  in 
manner  of  publication.  After  triumphing  with  the 
Newgate  Calendar^  he  ceased  "  faking  away,"  ^ 
dropped  his  old  pals,  and  started  a  serious  flirtation 
with  the  historic  muse.  He  not  only  aspired  to 
fill,  but  actually  did  seat  himself  upon  the  throne 
vacated  by  Sir  Walter  Scott.  Henceforward  we  had 
a  series  of  romances  based  on  historical  events, 
or  celebrated  personages  skilfully  woven  with  the 
doings  of  fictitious  persons  for  the  amusement  of  the 
ordinary  novel  reader.  He  was  full  of  the  modern 
taste  for  correct  costume,  ancient  buildings,  archaic 
dialect,  and  all  the  necessary  furniture  for  Wardour 
Street  history.  The  legal  atmosphere  of  his  home 
and  early  life  having  probably  made  accuracy  in 
minutiae  habitual  and  easy  to  him,  every  detail  was 
carefully  described,  and  the  description  verified. 
He  did  not  afi^ord  shallow  critics  the  cheap  pleasure 
of  pointing  out  inaccuracies  in  his  history  and  geo- 
graphy, as  they  do  in  Shakespere.     He  honourably 

^  "  Nix  my  doll  pals  fake  away,"  refrain  of  highly  popular  song   in 
Jack  Sheppard. 


198  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

satisfied  the  scholars,  whilst  he  catered  for  the  man 
in  the  street,  with  hairbreadth  escapes,  tales  of 
gallantry,  duels  and  street  tumults,  all  naturally 
arising  out  of  the  circumstances  of  the  times. 

In  quick  succession  he  published  The  Tower  of 
London^  Guy  Fawkes,  Windsor  Castle,  Old  St.  PauVs. 
Strange  to  say,  though  they  had  not  a  trace  of  low 
life  in  them,  these  works  rivalled  their  predecessors 
in  popularity.  They  passed  through  edition  after 
edition,  and  were  continually  reprinted,  even  to  the 
beginning  of  the  present  century.  The  perplexing 
question  is,  Who  are  the  readers  ?  The  cultured 
classes  apparently  care  nothing  for  him.  One  never 
sees  allusions  to  him  in  the  papers,  and  only  two  of 
his  criminal  heroes  are  mentioned  by  name.  Why 
this  curious  disappearance,  and  still  more  curious 
survival  ? 

The  original  popularity  of  Ainsworth's  historical 
novels  was  probably  due  to  the  taste  which  Scott 
originated  and  fostered  not  having  subsided  ;  and 
the  books  themselves  were  easier  reading  than  Scott's 
for  Londoners,  owing  to  the  absence  of  dialect. 
The  unsophisticated  reader  did,  and  still  does,  like 
his  history  interwoven  with  domestic  incidents. 
Although  he  may  be  moving  through  great  historical 
events  and  mingling  with  the  highest  society,  he  is 
always  ready  to  enjoy  a  little  love-making  and  a  happy 


HARRISON   AINSWORTH  199 

marriage  that  reminds  him  of  ordinary  humanity. 
The  earher  books,  criminal  and  historical  alike, 
had  the  advantage  of  Cruikshank's  illustrations, 
and  collectors  who  never  read  a  line  of  the  text  still 
buy  the  books  for  the  sake  of  the  etchings.  Cruik- 
shank  will  always  be  considered  the  illustrator  of 
Harrison  Ainsworth,  as  Browne  is  of  Charles 
Dickens.  But  he  did  not  remain  in  permanent 
possession,  as  may  be  explained. 

Nothing  was  permanent  or  on  a  settled  plan  with 
Ainsworth.  His  books  were  published  in  all  sorts 
of  different  conditions.  Several  made  their  first 
appearance  in  his  own  magazine.  Some  ran  as 
serials  in  a  paper,  and  one  at  least  was  published 
without  any  illustrations,  which  were  only  added 
on  the  appearance  of  the  third  edition.  One,  a 
story  of  modern  life,  Mervyn  Clitheroe,  appeared 
in  the  orthodox  form  in  monthly  numbers,  with  two 
illustrations  by  Phiz,  but  the  issue  ceased  with  the 
fourth  number,  and  was,  I  believe,  only  continued 
after  the  lapse  of  many  years.  The  stoppage  was 
firmly  impressed  upon  my  memory,  as  the  numbers 
were  given  to  me  as  they  came  out,  and  I  was  seriously 
distressed  at  the  loss  of  what  would  have  been  my 
swell  possession.  I  was  a  very  small  boy,  but  the 
loss  of  a  First  Folio  Shakespere  could  not  have 
occasioned  greater  dismay  to  a  bibliomaniac. 


200  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

The  first  illustrator  after  Cruikshank  was  Franklin, 
who  provided  a  set  of  plates  very  highly  finished, 
but  rather  tame,  for  Old  St.  PauVs.  The  drawings 
were  highly  esteemed  by  Ainsworth,  but  even  here 
the  spirit  of  unrest  prevailed,  and  for  a  later  edition 
Browne  executed  as  frontispiece  and  title-page  two 
remarkable  drawings,  one  "  The  Coffinmaker's 
Carouse,"  the  other  "  The  Passage  of  the  Plague 
Cart "  filled  with  dead  bodies.  Both  are  finely 
executed  and  fantastically  horrible.  One  book, 
Crichton,  stands  in  a  category  by  itself,  although  it 
has  an  affinity  with  the  historical  group,  but  it  deals, 
not  with  any  important  events,  but  with  the  doings 
and  adventures  of  the  admirable  Scot  in  Paris,  at  the 
University,  and  the  Court  of  Henry  the  Third  of 
France.  There  is  nothing  from  defending  a  thesis, 
fighting  a  duel,  killing  a  bull,  that  Crichton  cannot 
do  better  than  anybody  else.  He  does  not  even 
need  to  keep  himself  in  training,  for  we  find  him 
in  between  times  at  all  sorts  of  feasts  and  jollifica- 
tions. The  book  contains  a  great  number  of  verses, 
adapted  or  translated  from  old  French  and  low 
Latin,  of  which  I  quote  one  as  affording  a  good 
idea  of  his  style — he  describes  them  as  imitated 
from  a  trentaine  of  beaux  sis  accorded  in  the 
Dames  Galantes  : — 


HARRISON   AINSWORTH  201 


"THE   THIRTY    REQUISITES 

"  Thirty  points  of  perfection  each  judge  understands, 
The  standard  of  feminine  beauty  demands. 
Three  white  : — and  without  further  prelude  we  know 
That  the  skin,  hands,  and  teeth  should  be  pearly  as  snow. 
Three  black : — and  our  standard  departure  forbids 
From  dark  eyes,  darksome  tresses,  and  darkly-fringed  lids. 
Three  red  : — and  the  lover  of  comeliness  seeks 
For  the  hue  of  the  rose  in  the  lips,  nails,  and  cheeks. 
Three  long  : — and  of  this  you  no  doubt  are  aware  ? 
Long  the  body  should  be,  long  the  hands,  long  the  hair. 
Three  short  ! — and  herein  nicest  beauty  appears — 
Feet  short  as  a  fairy's,  short  teeth,  and  short  ears. 
Three  large  : — and  remember  this  rule  as  to  size, 
Embraces  the  shoulders,  the  forehead,  the  eyes. 
Three  narrow  : — a  maxim  to  every  man's  taste. 
Circumference  small  in  mouth,  ankle,  and  waist. 
Three  round  : — and  in  this  I  see  infinite  charms — 
Rounded  fulness  apparent  in  leg,  hip,  and  arms. 
Three  fine : — and  can  aught  the  enchantment  eclipse, 
Of  fine  tapering  fingers,  fine  hair,  and  fine  lips  ? 
Three  small : — and  my  thirty  essentials  are  told — 
Small  head,  nose  and  bosom,  compact  in  its  mould. 
Now  the  dame  who  comprises  attractions  like  these. 
Will  require  not  the  cestus  of  Venus  to  please. 
While  he  who  has  met  with  a  union  so  rare, 
Has  had  better  luck  than  has  fall'n  to  my  share." 

More  especially  in  this  book  are  to  be  noted  a  com- 
plete set  of  illustrations  by  Browne.  These  show  him 
at  his  best.  His  powers  were  at  their  full  maturity  ;  the 


202  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

romantic  subjects  were  entirely  suited  to  his  genius, 
and  were  much  more  to  his  taste  than  the  comic. 
The  compositions  are  very  elaborate  ;  many  are 
crowded  with  figures,  often  in  violent  action,  but 
the  sense  of  beauty  is  never  absent.  There  is  scarcely 
a  trace  of  the  grotesque,  and  there  is  none  of  humour, 
but  the  work  has  been  executed  with  consummate 
ease.  It  might  well  have  been  the  sketches  of  an 
eyewitness  instead  of  the  figments  of  imagination. 
Browne  afterwards  illustrated  some  other  works 
for  Harrison  Ainsworth,  but  I  believe  they  have 
been  engulfed  in  Ainsworth 's  magazine,  which  is 
not  easy  to  come  across,  but  might  be  well  worth 
the  attention  of  collectors.  Anyhow,  I  have  not 
seen  them. 

One  remarkable  circumstance  may  be  noted. 
Ainsworth  had  no  leaning  for  the  stage,  but  his 
works  were  more  frequently  dramatised,  and  with 
success,  than  those  of  any  other  author. 

The  three  authors,  Ainsworth,  Lever,  and  Dickens, 
were  products  of  their  time,  and  in  some  ways 
resembled  one  another.  They  were  all  eminently 
social  and  gregarious,  made  large  sums  of  money 
by  their  works,  and  celebrated  their  successes  by 
dinners.  They  can  scarcely  be  described  as  oppo- 
nents, as  they  do  not  seem  to  have  interfered  with 
one  another,  and  all   had   remarkably  good  terms 


HARRISON   AINSWORTH  203 

from  their  publishers.  But  liberal  as  the  terms 
were,  they  were  not  above  the  real  value  of  the  works. 
Ainsworth  was  undoubtedly  a  man  of  talent,  pos- 
sessed of  industry  and  erudition,  but  lacking  the 
indescribable  something  which  is  rightly  called 
genius.  Throughout  his  books  human  nature  plays 
a  small  part,  and  the  characters  do  not  dwell  as  living 
people  in  the  memory  of  the  reader.  At  one  time 
the  irrepressible  Cruikshank  popped  up  with  a 
claim  of  being  the  author  of  some  of  the  historical 
books,  and  a  controversy  even  appeared  in  The  Times. 
The  matter  was  soon  settled  to  the  satisfaction  of 
everybody  except  Cruikshank.  Harrison  Ains- 
worth was  very  short,  and  by  no  means  polite. 

In  describing  Lever  I  have  spoken  of  his  facility 
in  writing  and  his  fertility.  He  was  the  antithesis 
of  Ainsworth.  He  made  little  or  no  use  of  books, 
noted  the  humours  of  the  day  as  they  happened 
around  him,  using  the  full  licence  of  the  story-teller, 
improved,  altered,  and  transformed  his  material 
with  an  inexhaustible  invention,  but  the  central  part 
of  his  story  was  founded  upon  fact,  and  he  wrote 
of  men  and  manners  such  as  they  were  and  as  he 
found  them.  He  possessed  the  art,  by  no  means 
an  easy  one,  of  conveying  the  impression  of  exuber- 
antly high  spirits  on  to  the  paper.  But  this  kind  of 
thing  does  not  last,  it  loses  its  flavour  and  goes  flat 


204  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

like  yesterday's  wine.  As  I  have  hinted,  the  historian 
of  the  future,  desiring  to  write  an  account  of  the  Irish 
people  in  the  fashion  of  Macaulay's  first  chapter, 
will  find  scattered  in  the  midst  of  the  stories  of  revels 
and  the  escapades  of  soldiers,  material  for  describing 
the  thoughts  and  opinions  of  the  Irish  people  at 
or  about  the  time  of  the  Repeal  of  the  Union.  His 
books  viewed  as  novels  are  diffuse,  but  several  of 
them  by  judicious  editing  and  compression  might 
probably  acquire  a  new  lease  of  life,  and  again  be 
found  amusing  by  ordinary  novel  readers  of  to-day. 
Ainsworth  at  any  time  might  experience  a  revival 
of  a  moderate  popularity  for  his  historical  works, 
as  they  contain  a  number  of  facts  carefully  compiled 
and  pleasantly  stated.  There  are  always  to  be  found 
a  number  of  people  who  read  fiction  with  an  uneasy 
feeling  that  they  are  wasting  their  time,  but  who 
enjoy  themselves  if  they  fancy  they  are  acquiring 
information,  and  Ainsworth  to  this  class  of  mind 
supplies  a  want.  His  criminal  fictions  are  probably 
dead,  as  a  better  article  is  now  supplied  from  real  life 
in  the  daily  papers  with  photographic  illustrations.' 

'  Those  desiring  a  full  account  of  Ainsworth  and  his  works  should 
consult  his  Life  in  two  vols,  by  Mr.  Ellis. 


A 


/C'«v  -yt-t^  iC<^t^     4 


'^'y^TZ. 


JOTTINGS  UN   SCRAPS   Ol'    I'Al'EK— ORGAN   GRINDERS, 
STREET  NOISES,  &c. 


A, 


a> 


I()TTIN(;S   ON    SCRAI'S   Ol     I'Al'l'.R— INITIAL    LI'lTTERS,  &c. 


CHAPTER   XIV 

CHARLES  DICKENS— HIS  HUMOUR  AND  PATHOS 
—"A  TALE  OF  TWO  CITIES"— A  COINCIDENCE 

He  was  the  greatest  and  youngest  of  the  three  popular 
writers,  and  undoubtedly  a  man  of  commanding 
genius,  who  in  virtue  of  his  great  qualities  has  main- 
tained his  popularity  from  the  beginning  to  the 
present  day.  Nobody  is  as  a  writer  so  universally 
known,  no  one  is  held  in  such  affectionate  esteem 
by  all  classes.  Even  those  who  decry  his  methods, 
dislike  his  subjects,  and  deride  his  sentiments,  are 
obliged  to  maintain  a  familiarity  more  intimate 
with  him  than  any  other  author.  His  characters  are 
constantly  alluded  to  in  conversation,  and  quoted 
by  public  speakers  and  newspapers  ;  for  any  refer- 
ence to  his  works  can  be  made  with  the  certainty 
that  it  will  be  understood,  and,  if  made  in  the  course 
of  argument,  accepted  as  explanatory  and  convincing. 
He  is  not  regarded  as  a  novelist,  but  as  a  feature  of 
English  life.  He  is  met  with  wherever  the  English 
language  is  spoken. 

A  couple  of  years  ago  we  were  being  shown  round 
the  ancient  city  of  Santiago  by  an  agreeable  English- 


205 


2o6  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

speaking  Spanish  gentleman.  He  showed  us  the 
interesting  spots  in  that  interesting  city,  where  any- 
thing not  more  than  four  hundred  years  old  is  con- 
sidered modern.  He  took  us  over  the  cathedral, 
and  explained  many  things  to  us,  and  when  we  had 
got  ourselves  into  a  thoroughly  mediaeval  frame  of 
mind,  as  we  were  going  down  the  broad  flight  of 
steps  which  leads  from  the  porch,  he  turned  towards 
us,  and  in  a  perfectly  natural  manner  said,  "  What 
would  Pigue-wigue  have  said  of  Santiago  ?  "  What 
indeed  ! 

A  year  later,  travelling  homewards  in  the  Bordeaux 
steamer,  we  made  the  acquaintance  of  a  pleasant 
little  lady,  wife  of  a  missionary,  who  habitually  lived 
in  the  near  neighbourhood  of  the  great  African  lakes, 
among  the  lions  and  blackamoors.  She  and  her 
husband  were  four  days'  journey  from  any  whites, 
and  she  confessed  that  though  generally  satisfied 
with  her  occupations,  there  were  times  when  she 
felt  a  feeling  of  depression  and  home-sickness. 
"  And  then,"  she  added  without  the  least  suggestion, 
"  I  say  to  my  husband,  '  Go  and  fetch  Pickwick^ 
and  let  us  have  a  little  bit  of  Sammy  Weller.'  " 
In  neither  case  was  there  any  idea  that  I  was  par- 
ticularly interested  in  Dickens,  nor  did  I,  as  the 
schoolboys  say,  let  on.  But  a  patent  medicine 
could  not  have  had  a  better  advertisement. 


CHARLES    DICKENS  207 

Dickens,  by  his  contemporaries,  was  as  much 
esteemed  for  his  pathos  as  his  humour.  But  by  the 
present  generation  his  pathos  is  not  found  moving. 
The  reason  for  this  striking  change  is  to  be  found  in 
the  difference  between  his  management  of  his  comic 
and  pathetic  matter.  His  humour  still  appeals  to 
the  multitude,  and  the  reason  for  this  remarkable 
permanence  is  to  be  found  in  his  great  success, 
already  referred  to,  in  building  up  and  compounding 
the  elements  of  his  work  from  many  sources.  He 
would  take  the  name  from  one  man,  the  character 
from  another,  and  the  tricks  of  tongue  from  a  third, 
and  he  would  so  hammer  and  weld  all  together, 
that  he  made  a  character  individual  and  impressive 
enough  to  appear  a  reality.  When  these  strange 
beings,  Micawber,  or  Captain  Cuttle,  or  Mrs.  Gamp, 
began  to  talk  and  take  part  in  the  action  of  the 
book,  they  were  so  intimately  known  to  the  reader, 
that  they  became  inexpressibly  droll,  and  as  the 
story  progressed,  innumerable  minute  details  were 
added  till  an  absurdity  became  a  reality.  His  comic 
technique  consisted  chiefly  of  ample  and  precise 
descriptions  of  persons  and  their  surroundings. 
We  know  Mr.  Micawber 's  appearance  and  that  of 
his  house,  we  know  Captain  Cuttle  and  his  rooms 
at  Mrs.  MacStinger's  and  at  the  little  midshipman's, 
and  we  know  Mrs.  Gamp's  toilet  secrets,  and  the 


2o8  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

interior  of  her  bedroom,  as  well  as  if  we  had  lodged 
there  ourselves.  All  this  serves  the  purpose  of  focus- 
sing our  attention  in  the  required  direction,  and 
forcing  us  into  a  belief  of  the  reality  of  his  puppets. 
But  when  he  desires  to  be  pathetic,  or  even  to  tell 
a  serious  part  of  the  story,  he  abruptly  changes 
from  this  excellent  method  to  one  vastly  inferior. 
He  seems  then  to  take  a  pleasure  in  being  vague 
and  general. 

Well-favoured  or  beautiful  people  may  not  lend 
themselves  so  easily  to  description  as  oddities,  though 
Sophia  Western  served  pretty  well  in  her  time,  but 
we  cannot  know  them  at  all  if  they  are  not  described. 
Mrs.  Gamp  is  not  the  acknowledged  titular  heroine 
of  Martin  Chuzzlewit,  but  Mary  Graham  and  Ruth 
Pinch  share  the  position  between  them.  We  are 
given  scarcely  a  word  of  description  of  these  two 
young  ladies,  and  we  do  not  even  know  their  general 
appearance,  or  their  style  of  dress,  or  any  of  their  say- 
ings and  doings.  We  do  indeed  learn  that  Mary 
Graham  rejects  the  slimy  proposals  of  Pecksniff, 
and  that  Ruth  Pinch  can  make  a  pudding,  but  as  to 
taking  any  interest  in  their  love  affairs  or  marriages, 
it  cannot  be  done. 

Dickens  was  not  insensible  to  female  charms — 
far  from  it — but  feeling  that  he  was  called  upon  to 
provide  a  love  interest  and  a  happy  ending,  and  being 


CHARLES    DICKENS  209 

desirous  of  treating  the  matter  seriously  and  raising 
a  pleasurable  emotion  in  the  mind  of  the  reader, 
he  aimed  at  being  impressive,  and  became  vague. 
Here,  if  anywhere,  he  should  have  entered  into  his 
minute  details  of  costume  and  complexion,  and 
charmed  the  female  heart. 

It  was  worse  in  the  case  of  death.  Dickens  un- 
doubtedly felt  the  pain  of  bereavement  in  every  fibre 
of  his  being,  and  he  went  over,  in  his  imagination, 
emotions  he  had  suffered  in  reality,  and  transferred 
them  to  fictitious  beings.  We  learn  in  his  letters, 
that  in  approaching  the  death  of  little  Nell  and  of 
little  Dombey,  his  mind  went  back  to  the  sorrows 
in  his  own  family,  till  their  memory  became  well- 
nigh  insupportable.  Undoubtedly  the  public  for 
whom  he  wrote  were  profoundly  moved  by  the 
accounts  of  the  death  of  both  these  children,  but  of 
late  years  they  have  failed  to  arouse  any  emotion. 

Something  must  be  allowed  for  the  mode  of  publi- 
cation. With  a  story  issued  in  numbers,  the  reader 
is  held  in  expectation  for  a  time,  the  mind  dwells 
on  the  future,  and  an  untoward  incident  tells  with 
double  force  because  it  has  been  awaited,  but  in  the 
case  of  a  completed  book  the  reader  turns  over  a 
few  pages,  reaches  the  scene,  turns  over  a  few  more, 
and  it  is  left  behind. 

That  is  not  all.    We  do  not  feel  death  unless  we 

o 


210  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

have  known  the  person.  We  see  half  a  column  of 
deaths  in  the  paper  daily,  and  if  we  do  not  read  the 
name  of  a  friend,  the  catalogue  leaves  us  indifferent, 
and  the  writer  who  could  move  us  by  a  death  must 
first  arouse  in  us  an  interest  in  the  living.  It  is 
the  cessation  of  an  intimate  relationship  that  con- 
stitutes the  essence  of  the  sorrow  of  bereavement. 
Dickens  unfortunately  failed  to  realise  this  truth. 
We  know  scarcely  anything  of  little  Nell.  We  have 
followed  her  in  her  wanderings  with  her  grandfather, 
and  we  gather  that  she  is  of  an  affectionate  nature 
as  many  little  girls  are,  but  the  outlines  are  blurred, 
and  the  presentation  is  indistinct.  We  are  far  better 
acquainted  with  Mrs.  Jarley.  And  then  when  the 
end  comes,  instead  of  focussing  our  attention  on  the 
child,  Dickens  indulges  in  some  dithyrambic  writing 
in  a  sort  of  irregular  blank  verse,  and  produces  an 
effect  of  artificiality,  which  is  fatal. 

Little  Dombey's  death  was  said  to  have  plunged 
the  whole  nation  into  mourning,  but  we  must  re- 
member the  whole  nation  were  reading  the  account 
at  the  same  time,  much  as  we  read  of  a  disaster  in 
the  paper.  They  talked  of  it  and  compared  notes, 
and  worked  upon  each  other's  feelings.  The  soli- 
tary reader  is  less  easily  moved  ;  here  again  we  find, 
where  the  scene  should  have  been  described  in  simple 
language,  a  repetition  of  the  same  sort  of  calculated 


%,_■;»■.«" 


THE   DEATH   OF   LITTLE   NELL. 

Extra  illustration  to  "  7 he  Old  Curiosity  Shof>,"  published  by  H.  K.  Browne  and 

Robert  Young. 


CHARLES    DICKENS  211 

eloquence  which  is  intended  to  work  upon  our  feel- 
ings, with  the  same  unfortunate  result.  The  very 
title  of  the  chapter,  "  What  the  waves  were  always 
saying,"  strikes  an  artificial  note,  and  conveys  a 
feeling  of  insincerity  that  is  intolerable.  This  is 
the  more  lamentable,  that  no  one  so  well  as  Dickens 
could  have  recorded  the  little  trifles  that  make  the 
sum  of  a  child's  life.  In  both  cases  the  writing 
is  eloquent,  but  it  is  eloquence  misplaced.  The 
message  is  not  "  Behold,  the  child  is  dead  !  "  but 
"  Behold,  how  grieved  I  am."  The  attention  is  drawn 
from  the  sufferer  to  the  recorder.  The  nation  did 
not  mourn  because  little  Paul  was  dead,  but  because 
Mr.  Dickens  was  so  sorry. 

Throughout  his  writings,  when  he  changes  his 
technique  for  the  especial  purpose  of  being  impres- 
sive he  becomes  relatively  dull,  but  where  he  keeps 
to  his  own  natural  manner  he  can  venture  on  to 
the  borders  of  the  grotesque  and  yet  remain  human 
and  pathetic.  The  death  of  Barkis  with  his  friends 
around  him,  and  the  exhibition,  up  till  the  end, 
of  his  little  mean,  cunning,  but  not  dishonest  traits, 
is  undeniably  moving  ;  he  is  a  grotesque  and  ugly 
little  creature,  but  he  is  human,  and  we  feel  his 
humanity  the  more  because  his  grotesqueness  and 
ugliness  remain  with  him  till  he  goes  out  with  the 
tide. 


212  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

One  instance  of  a  death  scene  in  a  later  book, 
A  Tale  of  Two  Cities ,  retains  its  full  force  to  the 
present  day,  and  it  owes  its  enduring  quality  to  the 
true  method  followed  in  the  narrative.  Our  atten- 
tion is  strongly  drawn  to  the  actors,  and  the  narrator 
is  throughout  kept  in  the  background.  In  the  early 
part  of  the  book,  at  the  Old  Bailey,  where  Evremonde, 
otherwise  Darnay,  is  tried  for  his  life  for  treason, 
and  is  in  imminent  danger  of  condemnation  from 
suborned  evidence  of  his  identity  on  certain  sus- 
picious occasions,  he  is  saved  by  Sidney  Carton 
drawing  attention  to  the  strong  likeness  between 
himself  and  the  prisoner,  thus  the  resemblance 
between  the  two  men,  which  serves  an  important 
purpose  at  the  end,  is  known  from  the  beginning. 

Both  men  are  in  love  with  Lucie,  daughter  of 
Dr.  Manette,  who  had  endured  a  long  imprison- 
ment in  the  Bastille,  and  is  now  quietly  settled  in 
London.  Darnay  marries  Lucie,  and  joins  the  life 
of  his  wife's  family,  and  becomes,  to  all  intents  and 
purposes,  an  Englishman.  Sidney  Carton  remains 
as  a  friend,  concealing,  though  always  nursing,  his 
own  passion. 

At  the  most  disturbed  period  of  the  Revolution, 
Darnay,  in  answer  to  a  piteous  appeal  of  an  old  ser- 
vant in  grievous  danger,  makes  his  way  to  Paris. 
On    arriving  there  he  is  recognised,   thrown   into 


CHARLES    DICKENS  213 

prison,  and  condemned  to  death  as  an  aristocrat. 
His  father-in-law  and  wife,  Sidney  Carton,  and  Mr. 
Lorry,  the  trustee,  all  gather  in  Paris.  Carton 
bribes  a  spy  already  known  to  him  to  take  him  into 
the  prison,  ostensibly  to  say  farewell  to  Evremonde, 
otherwise  Darnay.  At  the  interview  he  makes  a 
change  of  costume  with  Darnay,  and  sends  him  out 
in  place  of  himself  with  the  spy  and  assumes  the 
place  of  the  condemned  man.  The  change  is  effected 
without  discovery,  and  Darnay  leaves  the  prison  with 
the  spy,  and  joins  his  family  according  to  a  pre- 
arranged plan.  They  all  set  forth  in  a  coach,  and 
get  safely  out  of  France. 

The  change  of  clothes  was  not  detected,  and 
Carton  remains  in  prison  as  Evremonde.  He  listens 
for  any  sign  that  a  discovery  had  been  made,  but 
for  a  long  time  there  is  silence.  Sounds  that  he  was 
not  afraid  of,  for  he  divined  their  meaning,  then 
began  to  be  audible.  Several  doors  were  opened  in 
succession,  and  finally  his  own.  A  gaoler,  with  a 
list  in  his  hand,  looked  in,  merely  saying,  "  Follow 
me,  Evremonde  !  "  and  he  followed  into  a  large 
dark  room  at  a  distance.  It  was  a  dark  winter  day, 
and  what  with  the  shadows  within,  and  what  with 
the  shadows  without,  he  could  but  dimly  discern 
the  others  who  were  brought  there  to  have  their 
arms   bound.     Some   were   standing,   some   seated. 


214  PHIZ   AND   DICKENS 

Some  were  lamenting  and  in  restless  emotion,  but 
these  were  few.  The  great  majority  were  silent 
and  still,  looking  fixedly  at  the  ground. 

As  he  stood  by  the  wall  in  a  dim  corner,  while 
some  of  the  fifty- two  were  brought  in  after  him, 
one  man  stopped  in  passing  to  embrace  him,  as  if 
having  a  knowledge  of  him.  It  thrilled  him  with  a 
great  dread  of  discovery,  but  the  man  went  on  A 
very  few  moments  after  that  a  young  woman,  with  a 
slight  girlish  form,  a  sweet  spare  face  in  which  there 
was  no  vestige  of  colour  and  largely  wide-opened 
patient  eyes,  rose  from  the  seat  where  he  had  observed 
her  sitting,  and  came  to  speak  to  him.  "  Citizen 
Evremonde,"  she  said,  touching  him  with  her  cold 
hand,  "  I  am  a  poor  little  seamstress,  who  was  with 
you  in  La  Force."  He  murmured  for  answer  "  True  ; 
I  forget  what  you  were  accused  of  ?  "  "  Plots. 
Though  the  just  Heaven  knows  I  am  innocent  of 
any.  Is  it  likely  ?  Who  would  think  of  plotting 
with  a  poor,  little  weak  creature  like  me  }  "  The 
forlorn  smile  with  which  she  said  it  so  touched  him, 
that  tears  started  from  his  eyes.  "  I  am  not  afraid 
to  die.  Citizen  Evremonde,  but  I  have  done  nothing. 
I  am  not  unwilling  to  die  if  the  Republic  which  is 
to  do  so  much  good  to  us  poor  will  profit  by  my 
death  ;  but  I  do  not  know  how  that  can  be.  Citizen 
Evremonde.     Such  a   poor,  weak  little  creature  !  " 


CHARLES    DICKENS  215 

As  the  last  thing  on  earth  that  his  heart  was  to 
warm  and  soften  to,  it  warmed  and  softened  to  this 
pitiable  girl. 

*'  I  heard  you  were  released,  Citizen  Evremonde. 
I  hoped  it  was  true  ?  "  "It  was.  But  I  was  again 
taken  and  condemned."  "  If  I  may  ride  with  you, 
Citizen  Evremonde,  will  you  let  me  hold  your  hand  ? 
I  am  not  afraid,  but  I  am  little  and  weak,  and  it  will 
give  me  more  courage  !  "  As  the  patient  eyes  were 
lifted  to  his  face,  he  saw  a  sudden  doubt  in  them, 
and  then  astonishment.  He  pressed  the  work-worn, 
hunger- worn  young  fingers,  and  touched  his  lips. 
"  Are  you  dying  for  him  ?  "  she  whispered.  "  And 
his  wife  and  child."  "Hush!  Yes."  "O,  will  you 
let  me  hold  your  brave  hand,  stranger  ?  "  "  Hush  ! 
Yes,  my  poor  sister  ;  to  the  last." 

^  !jP  Tp  TP  w  ^ 

Afterwards  at  the  foot  of  the  guillotine. 

****** 

The  second  tumbril  empties  and  moves  on.  The 
third  comes  up.  Crash  !  And  the  knitting  women, 
never  faltering  or  pausing  in  their  work,  count  Two. 
The  supposed  Evremonde  descends,  and  the  seam- 
stress is  lifted  out  after  him.  He  has  not  relin- 
quished her  patient  hand  in  getting  out,  but  still 
holds  it  as  he  promised.  He  gently  places  her  with 
her  back  to  the  crashing  engine  that  constantly  whirrs 


2i6  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

up  and  falls,  and  she  looks  into  his  face  and  thanks 
him.  "  But  for  you,  dear  stranger,  I  should  not  be 
so  composed,  for  I  am  naturally  a  poor  little  thing, 
faint  of  heart  ;  nor  should  I  have  been  able  to  raise 
my  thoughts  to  Him  who  was  put  to  death  that  we 
might  have  hope  and  comfort  here  to-day.  I  think 
you  were  sent  to  me  by  Heaven."  "  Or  you  to  me," 
says  Sidney  Carton.  "  Keep  your  eyes  upon  me, 
dear  child,  and  mind  no  other  object."  "  I  mind 
nothing  while  I  hold  your  hand.  I  shall  mind  noth- 
ing when  I  let  go,  if  they  are  rapid."  "  They  will 
be  rapid.  Fear  not  !  "  The  two  stand  in  the  fast- 
thinning  throng  of  victims,  but  they  speak  as  if 
they  were  alone.  Eye  to  eye,  voice  to  voice,  heart 
to  heart,  these  two  children  of  the  Universal  Mother, 
else  so  wide  apart  and  differing,  have  come  together 
on  the  dark  highway,  to  repair  home  together  and 
to  rest  in  her  bosom. 

"  Brave  and  generous  friend,  will  you  let  me  ask 
you  one  last  question  ?  I  am  very  ignorant,  and  it 
troubles  me — just  a  little."  "  Tell  me  what  it  is." 
"  I  have  a  cousin,  an  only  relative,  and  an  orphan 
like  myself,  whom  I  love  very  dearly.  She  is  five 
years  younger  than  I,  and  she  lives  in  a  farmer's 
house  in  the  south  country.  Poverty  parted  us, 
and  she  knows  nothing  of  my  fate — for  I  cannot 
write — and  if  I  could,  how  should  I  tell  her  }     It 


CHARLES    DICKENS  217 

is  better  as  it  is."  "  Yes,  yes,  better  as  it  is." 
"  What  I  have  been  thinking  as  we  came  along, 
and  what  I  am  still  thinking  now  as  I  look  into  your 
kind  strong  face  which  gives  me  so  much  support, 
is  this  :  If  the  Republic  really  does  good  to  the  poor, 
and  they  come  to  be  less  hungry,  and  in  all  ways 
suffer  less,  she  may  live  a  long  time  ;  she  may  even 
live  to  be  old."  "  What  then,  my  gentle  sister  ?  " 
"  Do  you  think  " — the  uncomplaining  eyes  in  which 
there  is  so  much  endurance  fill  with  tears,  and  the 
lips  part  a  little  more  and  tremble — "  that  it  will 
seem  long  to  me  while  I  wait  for  her  in  the  better 
land,  where  I  trust  both  you  and  I  will  be  mercifully 
sheltered  .^  "  "  It  cannot  be,  my  child  ;  there  is 
no  time  there,  and  no  trouble  there."  "  You 
comfort  me  so  much  !  I  am  so  ignorant.  Am  I 
to  kiss  you  now  ?  Is  the  moment  come  .^  "  "  Yes." 
She  kisses  his  lips  ;  he  kisses  hers  ;  they  solemnly 
bless  each  other.  The  spare  hand  does  not  tremble 
as  he  releases  it  ;  nothing  worse  than  a  sweet,  bright 
constancy  is  in  the  patient  face.  She  goes  next  before 
him — is  gone  ;  the  knitting  women  count  Twenty- 
two.  "  I  am  the  Resurrection  and  the  Life,  saith 
the  Lord  :  he  that  believeth  in  Me,  though  he  were 
dead,  yet  shall  he  live  :  and  whosoever  liveth  and 
believeth  in  Me,  shall  never  die."  The  murmuring 
of  many  voices,  the  upturning  of  many  faces,  the 


2i8  PHIZ    AND    DICKENS 

pressing  on  of  many  footsteps  in  the  outskirts  of 
the  crowd,  so  that  it  swells  forward  in  a  mass  like 
one  great  heave  of  water,  all  flashes  away.  Twenty- 
three." 

No  one  can  deny  this  is  noble  and  profoundly 
touching  writing.  It  is  altogether  free  from  the 
errors  which  weakened  the  effects  in  earlier  instances. 
The  mind  of  the  reader  was  adequately  prepared 
for  the  crisis,  and  the  means  of  the  prisoner's  escape 
on  account  of  the  likeness  of  the  two  men  appear 
as  a  natural  opportunity.  The  character  of  Carton 
has  been  described  clearly  and  efficiently  to  prepare 
us  for  him  acting  impulsively  and  recklessly  ! 
He  has  been  described  as  sharp-witted  and  fertile 
in  expedients  ;  he  is  disgusted  with  himself,  tired 
of  life,  and  thankful  to  atone  for  a  wasted  past  by  a 
good  deed  that  will  seal  the  happiness  of  the  woman 
he  loves.  Our  attention  is  not  distracted  by  refer- 
ence to  inanimate  nature.  There  is  no  attempt 
made  to  heighten  the  dramatic  situation  by  the  tolling 
of  a  bell,  or  the  beating  of  waves  on  the  shore.  The 
trust  of  the  poor  little  seamstress,  whose  innocent 
blood  is  to  be  shed  at  the  same  time  as  his  own, 
provides  Carton  with  that  sympathy  and  approbation 
that  are  comforting  to  a  man  in  his  dire  situation. 
He  is  still  a. protector  to  one  weaker  than  himself. 


CHARLES    DICKENS  219 

and  his  last  moments  are  full  of  active  goodness 
that  robs  death  of  its  terrors. 

A  Tale  of  Two  Cities  differs  in  a  remarkable 
degree  from  any  of  Dickens'  books,  written 
either  before  or  after  it.  It  stands  alone  in  the 
nature  of  its  subject,  and  in  the  methods  of  treat- 
ment. It  is  the  only  book  that  smells  of  the 
lamp.  I  remember  seeing  the  beginning  in  the 
rough  proof,  and  taking  exception  to  two  phrases  : 
in  the  exordium  :  "  There  were  a  king  with  a 
large  jaw  and  a  queen  with  a  plain  face  on  the 
throne  of  England  ;  there  were  a  king  with  a  large 
jaw  and  a  queen  with  a  fair  face  on  the  throne  of 
France,"  which,  though  certainly  English,  came 
awkwardly  off  the  tongue,  a  very  unusual  circum- 
stance with  Dickens,  and  I  remember  my  father 
laughing  at  the  description  of  Jerry  Cruncher's 
spikey  hair,  and  saying  that  was,  at  all  events,  a 
genuine  bit  of  Dickens. 

"  Except  on  the  crown,  which  was  raggedly  bald, 
he  had  stiff  black  hair,  standing  jaggedly  all  over  it, 
and  growing  downhill  almost  to  his  broad  blunt 
nose.  It  was  so  like  smith's  work,  so  much  more 
like  the  top  of  a  strongly  spiked  wall  than  a  head 
of  hair,  that  the  best  of  players  at  leap-frog  might 
have  declined  him  as  the  most  dangerous  man  in 
the  world  to  go  over." 


220  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

The  story  is  carried  forward  dramatically,  partly 
in  France  and  partly  in  England,  and  the  characters 
are  slowly  revealed  by  hints  and  glimpses,  which 
require  to  be  pieced  together  like  a  puzzle.  The 
end  is  very  steadily  pursued  from  the  beginning, 
uninterrupted  by  any  of  those  overwhelming  episodes 
which  interrupt  the  development  of  the  plot  and 
obscure  the  action  of  the  serious  characters  in  most 
of  his  other  books.  The  dominant  note  is  struck 
early  on  by  Lucie  Manette  meeting  with  her  father 
on  his  release  from  his  long,  long  imprisonment 
in  the  Bastille.  Nothing  more  natural,  truthful, 
or  delicate  exists  in  the  English  language.  It  is 
remarkable  in  the  whole  book  that  there  is  scarcely 
any  humour  or  comic  writing  of  any  kind.  Instead 
of  the  crowd  of  unnecessary  persons  whom  we 
generally  find  elbowing  the  principal  serious  char- 
acters from  their  places,  we  have  only  one,  in 
the  account  of  the  resurrection  man  and  his 
loathsome  occupation  on  one  night,  and  that 
has  a  shadowy  connection  with  a  mysterious 
phrase  "  recalled  to  life."  Jerry  Cruncher  and 
his  little  boy  are  genuine  Dickens  characters,  but 
the  rest  are  unusual,  and,  it  must  be  confessed, 
do  not  exhibit  any  plain  marks  of  the  author's 
genius.  The  book  is  also  unusually  short,  being 
two   hundred    and   fifty-four  pages,  as    against   six 


CHARLES    DICKENS  221 

hundred   and  twenty-four  both  in  Copperfield  and 
Bleak  Home. 

The  mode  of  issue  was  also  peculiar.  In  order 
to  give  a  fillip  to  the  circulation  of  All  the  Year 
Rounds  then  a  new  publication,  started  after 
Dickens  had  changed  from  Bradbury  &  Evans,  he 
published  the  story  by  weekly  instalments  in  its 
pages,  but  he  also  issued  it  independently  in  the 
usual  green-covered  monthly  parts,  with  two  illus- 
trations by  Hablot  K.  Browne.  The  two  issues  ran 
concurrently. 

And  now  a  strange  thing  happened.  A  Tale 
of  Two  Cities  was  only  just  started  in  the  monthly 
form,  when  there  was  presented  at  the  Adelphi 
a  drama  called  the  Dead  Heart,  founded  on  the 
facts  and  fiction  of  the  French  Revolution.  It  con- 
sisted of  a  prologue  and  three  acts,  and  dealt  with 
the  periods  1771,  1789,  and  1794. 

At  the  opening  of  the  piece  the  hero,  Robert 
Landry,  is  engaged  to  be  married  to  Catherine  Duval. 
They  both  belong  to  the  people,  but  the  Count  de 
St.  Valerie,  an  aristocrat,  is  violently  in  love  with  her, 
and  under  the  promptings  of  the  villain,  the  Abbe 
Latour,  St.  Valerie,  by  means  of  a  lettre  de  cachet , 
sends  Landry  to  the  Bastille  to  get  him  out  of  the 
way.  St.  Valerie  marries  Catherine,  and  they  have 
a  son. 


222  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

At  the  expiry  of  eighteen  years  the  Bastille  is 
stormed,  and  Robert  Landry  is  brought  forth  into 
the  midst  of  the  Revolutionary  crowd.  Latour  tells 
Catherine  (the  widowed  Countess  de  St.  Valerie) 
that  Robert  still  lives.  A  meeting  takes  place,  and 
Robert  declares  to  her  his  project  of  revenging  his 
wrongs  upon  her  son  Arthur  de  St.  Valerie,  who 
shortly  afterwards  is  arrested  and  condemned  to 
death.  The  Countess,  maddened  with  grief,  appeals 
to  Landry,  conjures  him  by  his  old  love  to  save  her 
son.  Robert  holds  a  position  of  authority  in  the 
prison  of  the  conciergerie^  and  he  causes  the  Abbe 
Latour  to  be  brought  in  a  prisoner.  During  a  con- 
versation a  quarrel  arises,  and  Robert  kills  Latour. 

Very  early  on  the  morning  of  the  execution 
Catherine  makes  a  passionate  appeal  to  Landry  for 
mercy.  She  tells  him  that  her  husband  had  given 
Latour  an  order  for  his  release,  which  was  useless, 
as  proof  was  brought  back  that  Landry  had  been 
found  dead  upon  his  prison  floor.  Robert  feels 
that  his  vengeance  has  lost  its  justification,  and  he 
sends  a  messenger  to  Robespierre  for  a  passport. 
He  delays  the  starting  of  the  third  tumbril,  wherein 
Arthur  is  to  ride.  He  ascertains  that  the  prisoners 
are  despatched  by  a  new  warder  from  Marseilles, 
who  does  not  know  any  of  them  by  sight.  The 
numbers   are   called   slowly   one   by   one,   and   the 


CHARLES    DICKENS  223 

prisoners  despatched.  Robert  determines  to  restore 
the  son  to  his  mother,  and  when  number  30  is  called, 
he  answers,  "  Here,  and  ready."  He  is  taken  off 
to  execution.  The  Countess  and  her  son  looking 
through  the  window  see  the  devoted  man  mount- 
ing the  scaffold,  and  the  curtain  falls.  Even  in  this 
bald  outline  the  reader  must  perceive  the  extraordi- 
nary resemblance  between  the  book  and  the  drama. 

The  coincidence  is  one  of  the  strangest  in  the 
history  of  literature.  Two  men,  unknown  to  each 
other,  sit  down,  without  any  hint  in  the  circum- 
stances of  the  times,  to  write  of  the  French  Revolu- 
tion. It  was  a  time  of  peace,  social  content,  and 
England  supposed  her  constitution  was  founded 
on  a  rock,  and  yet  day  by  day  they  were  each  con- 
structing a  plot  compounded  of  the  fall  of  the  Bastille, 
the  movements  of  the  Revolution,  and  its  crisis  in  the 
horrors  of  the  Terror,  and  finishing  with  the  sacrifice 
of  life  by  substitution  in  order  to  secure  the  happi- 
ness of  a  woman  beloved. 

Whether  the  authors  evolved  the  plot  entirely 
from  their  own  imagination  (which  seems  unlikely), 
or  whether  an  idea  was  put  into  their  heads  by  some 
obscure  Jeuilleton  dealing  with  the  central  incident, 
and  the  preliminary  stages  reconstructed  from  the 
imagination  to  lead  up  to  the  climax,  it  is  equally 
wonderful.     Dickens,  we  know,  had  a  morbid  horror 


224  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS, 

of  his  books  being  dramatised,  for  though  the  pubUc 
did  not  care  about  his  plots,  and  sometimes  even  did 
not  recognise  their  existence,  he  took  great  pains 
to  construct  his  stories,  which  with  a  good  deal  of 
make-believe  could  be  disentangled  from  those  epi- 
sodes which  are  the  genuine  and  unapproachable 
offspring  of  his  genius.  For  example,  not  one  reader 
in  ten  thousand  cared  whether  Martin  Chuzzlewit 
married  Ruth  Pinch  or  not,  but  when  the  last  number 
appeared,  a  whole  nation  lamented  that  Sairy  Gamp 
had  gone  into  the  silent  land,  and  that  the  mystery 
of  Mrs.  Harris  was  left  unsolved.  So  it  seems 
likely  that  Dickens  felt  himself  unable  to  continue 
to  write  towards  a  climax  which  was  being  forestalled 
night  after  night  at  the  theatre.  But  even  so,  if  he 
had  reflected  calmly,  he  would  have  remembered 
that  only  a  certain  number  of  people  would  see  the 
play,  and  there  would  still  remain  thousands  upon 
thousands  ready  to  read  anything  he  wrote,  and  there 
must  have  been  many  like  myself  who  were  able  to 
enjoy  both.  The  play  was  indeed  a  first-class  melo- 
drama, but  on  the  stage  it  was  full  of  telling  situa- 
tions. The  scene  of  the  attack  on  the  Bastille  and  the 
release  of  the  prisoners  was  full  of  storm,  and  the 
passions  of  the  mob,  and  worked  up  the  audience 
to  an  extraordinary  degree  of  enthusiasm.  The 
cast  was  strong,  and   included   Benjamin  Webster, 


CHARLES    DICKENS  225 

Billington,  Paul  Bedford,  Toole,  Miss  Woolgar,  and 
others  of  less  note.  All  played  with  earnestness  and 
conviction,  for  all  were  fitted  with  parts  that  were 
full  of  strong  points  of  the  kind  dear  to  actors,  that 
were  easily  played,  and  were  free  from  the  embarrass- 
ment of  superfluous  words.  It  had  no  pretension 
to  literary  qualities  at  all. 

Dickens  was  supposed  by  many  to  have  shortened 
his  story,  and  abruptly  finished  it  at  the  eighth 
number.  The  end  is  certainly  huddled  up,  instead 
of  being  spread  out  and  elaborated  in  the  usual 
Dickens  manner. 

The  play  was  afterwards  revived,  and  played  at 
the  Lyceum  by  Henry  Irving  and  Ellen  Terry, 
and  a  drama  called  The  Only  Way,  dealing  with  the 
story  of  Sidney  Carton,  seems  in  the  hands  of  Mr. 
Martin  Harvey  to  be  perennial,  and  yet  A  Tale  oj 
Two  Cities  is  still  read.  As  a  matter  <.  ^  fact,  a  well- 
written  novel  is  seldom  interfered  with  by  a  dramatic 
version,  though  a  play  does  suffer  by  being  derived 
from  a  widely  known  book.  Judged  impartially 
from  a  commercial  point  of  view,  one  advertises 
the  other.  Ainsworth  had  his  books  continually  on 
the  boards,  and  we  never  heard  of  his  making  any 
protestation.  But  whatever  may  be  the  decided 
truth  of  the  origin  and  termination  of  the  two  works, 
the  coincidence  of  the   appearance  of   A    Tale  of 


226  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

Two  Cities  and  the  Dead  Heart  will  always  remain 
one  more  remarkable  than  the  boldest  writer  of 
fiction  would  have  ventured  to  have  employed. 

His  strong  point  was  his  humour.  It  is  not  that 
he  said  funny  things,  or  devised  comical  situations, 
or  invented  droll  personages,  though  he  did  all  these 
things,  but  that  he  invested  everything  with  an 
atmosphere  of  gaiety.  Cheerfulness  was  the  key- 
note, which  might  be  developed  on  the  one  hand 
into  merriment,  and  on  the  other  to  tearfulness. 
He  surveyed  external  nature  and  ordinary  things 
and  the  common  objects  of  daily  life — mean  streets, 
commonplace  people  and  everyday  occurrences — as 
if  they  had  never  been  seen  before,  and  therefore 
merited  a  minute  and  particular  description.  He 
was  full  of  the  joie  de  vivre.  He  bubbled  over  with 
enjoyment,  and  he  called  upon  his  readers  to  join 
him,  and  it  is  an  extraordinary  circumstance  that 
they  answered  the  call,  and  when  he  wanted  them 
to  look  upon  something  they  had  seen  a  thousand 
times  before,  they  approached  it  as  a  novelty  and 
were  delighted. 

This  curious  quality  was  something  new  in  litera- 
ture, and  though  of  course  it  has  been  imitated,  it 
has  not  succeeded  in  the  hands  of  anyone  except 
the  inventor.  His  marked  originality  of  style  was 
not   slowly    elaborated    and    perfected.     It    existed 


CHARLES    DICKENS  227 

almost  from  the  beginning,  and  scarcely  altered  till 
the  end,  except  in  trimming  away  a  little  exuberance. 
The  keynote  was  struck  in  Pickwick^  with  the  de- 
scription of  the  entertainment  at  Mr.  Wardle's, 
and  it  runs  through  the  book,  pervading  the 
decorous  atmosphere  of  the  Court  of  Law  and  the 
dismal  precincts  of  the  Fleet  Prison. 

The  temperamental  quality  of  his  style  had  a  firm 
basis  in  a  certain  mental  aptitude,  which  under  other 
circumstances  might  have  been  employed  in  scholar- 
ship or  science.  As  a  foundation  we  see  a  marvel- 
lously rapid,  minute,  and  particular  observation  of 
places  and  people  which  were  so  accurately  remem- 
bered, that  they  could  be  reproduced  at  any  moment 
they  were  wanted.  There  was  none  of  the  pre- 
liminary cramming  of  the  modern  realist. 

For  example,  we  know  he  was  at  Bath,  and  only  for 
a  short  time,  in  his  reporter  stage,  and  then  was 
fully  occupied.  But  when  it  occurred  to  Mr.  Pick- 
wick and  his  friends  to  go  there,  Dickens  writes  as 
if  he  and  his  readers  intimately  knew  the  place  and 
the  people.  The  visitors  do  not  go  here  and  there 
vaguely  wandering  through  a  vaguely  described 
town.  They  go  to  Queen  Square  and  to  Park 
Street,  which  they  consider  ''  very  much  like  the 
perpendicular  streets  a  man  sees  in  a  dream,  and 
which  he  cannot  get  up  for  the  life  of  him."    Mr. 


228  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

Pickwick  and  his  friends  lodge  in  the  upper  por- 
tion of  a  house  in  the  Royal  Crescent.  They  visited 
the  great  Pump  Room,  and  we  learn  that  "it  is  a 
spacious  saloon  ornamented  with  Corinthian  pillars, 
and  a  music  gallery  and  a  Tompion  clock,^  and  a 
golden  inscription  to  which  all  the  water  drinkers 
should  attend,  for  it  appeals  to  them  in  the  cause 
of  a  deserving  charity."  This  is  quite  precise, 
and  might  serve  for  the  pages  of  the  Bath  Guide, 
and  not  for  the  background  of  a  small  party 
of  gentlemen  out  for  a  holiday.  The  Master  of 
the  Ceremonies  makes  our  acquaintance,  and  be- 
sides his  manners,  we  hear  of  every  detail  of  his 
costume : — 

"  Dressed  in  a  very  bright  blue  coat  with  re- 
splendent buttons,  black  trousers,  and  the  thinnest 
possible  pair  of  highly-polished  boots.  A  gold  eye- 
glass was  suspended  from  his  neck  by  a  short,  broad 
black  ribbon  ;  a  gold  snuff-box  was  lightly  clasped 
in  his  left  hand  ;  gold  rings  innumerable  glittered 
on  his  fingers  ;  and  a  large  diamond  pin  set  in  gold 
glistened  in  his  shirt  frill.  He  had  a  gold  watch 
with  a  gold  curb  chain  with  large  gold  seals  ;  and 
he  carried  a  pliant  ebony  cane  with  a  heavy  gold 
top.     His  linen  was  of  the  very  whitest,  finest,  and 

'  Thomas  Tompion,  "the  father  of  English  watchmaking,"  born  1639, 
died  1 7 13. 


CHARLES    DICKENS  229 

stiff  est ;  his  wig  of  the  glossiest,  blackest,  and  curliest. 
His  snuff  was  Prince's  mixture  ;  his  scent,  bouquet 
du  roi.  His  features  were  contracted  with  a  per- 
petual smile  ;  and  his  teeth  were  in  such  perfect 
order,  that  it  was  difficult  at  a  little  distance  to  tell 
the  real  from  the  false." 

This  is  a  woman's  eye  for  the  details  of  costume. 
Hundreds  of  people  have  been  in  the  room,  and  barely 
noticed  there  was  a  clock,  and  certainly  not  noticed 
who  was  the  maker,  but  these  piled  up  details  pro- 
duce an  impression  of  truth  for  no  other  reason  than 
that  they  are  solid  facts,  and  give  the  air  of  great 
credibility  to  the  extravagant  antics  of  some  most 
respectable  Cockneys.  Nobody  reads  Pickwick  as 
fiction  ;  it  is  as  truthful  as  Robinson  Crusoe,  which 
is  well  known  to  be  the  most  veracious  book  of 
travels  ever  published. 

In  no  distant  day  a  Dr.  Birkbeck  Hill  will  arise 
who  will  edit  Pickwick,  verifying  all  the  localities 
and  explaining  all  the  allusions,  and  shed  a  lustre 
over  his  university. 

It  is  certainly  very  remarkable  that  a  young 
man  should  draw  a  detailed  picture  of  this 
kind  of  a  place  where  he  was  little  more  than  a 
passer-by. 

When  he  describes  persons  or  things,  he  has  an  odd 
fanciful  way  of  seeing  or  remembering  a  likeness  to 


230  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

something  else,  which  assists  in  giving  a  clear  idea 
of  his  meaning,  and  being  followed  out  often  becomes 
decidedly  droll.  This  habit  of  allowing  his  fancy 
to  play  about,  preserves  his  descriptions  from  flat- 
ness and  renders  them  interesting  and  amusing, 
so  that  his  books  are  generally  excellently  adapted  for 
reading  aloud,  but  they  are  the  worst  that  were  ever 
written  for  the  purpose  of  skipping.  The  compari- 
sons often  seem  far-fetched  and  are  always  unex- 
pected, but  invariably  elucidatory.  For  instance, 
he  describes  an  unmarried  lady  of  a  certain  age  : 
"  She  was  a  little  dilapidated — like  a  house — with 
having  been  so  long  to  let,  yet  had  an  appearance 
of  good  looks." 

Or  Mr.  Barkis  in  bed  with  the  rheumatics.  "  As 
he  lay  in  bed,  face  upwards,  and  so  covered,  with 
that  exception,  that  he  seemed  to  be  nothing  but  a 
face — like  a  conventional  cherubim — he  looked  the 
queerest  object  I  ever  beheld." 

Or  Mr.  Spenlow's  respectability.  "  His  gold 
watch-chain  was  so  massive,  that  a  fancy  came  across 
me  that  he  ought  to  have  a  sinewy  golden  arm  to 
draw  it  out  with,  like  those  which  are  put  up  over 
the  goldbeaters'  shops." 

The  description  of  Doctors'  Commons.  "  The 
languid  stillness  of  the  place  was  only  broken  by 
the  chirping  of  the  fire  and  the  noise  of  one  of  the 


CHARLES    DICKENS  231 

doctors  who  was  wandering  slowly  through  a  perfect 
library  of  evidence,  and  stopping  to  put  up  from 
time  to  time  at  little  roadside  inns  of  argument 
on  the  journey." 

Of  an  old-fashioned  house.  "  A  shy,  blinking 
house,  with  a  conical  roof  going  up  into  a  peak 
over  its  garret  window  of  four  small  panes  of  glass, 
like  the  cocked  hat  on  the  head  of  an  elderly  gentle- 
man with  one  eye." 

Of  a  raven.  "  Grip  fluttered  to  the  floor,  and 
went,  not  at  a  walk  or  run,  but  at  a  pace  like  that 
of  a  very  particular  gentleman  with  exceedingly 
tight  boots  on,  trying  to  walk  fast  over  loose 
pebbles." 

Of  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  as  generally  keeping  his  hand 
on  his  waistcoat,  as  though  he  were  ready,  on  the 
shortest  notice,  to  produce  his  heart  for  Martin's 
inspection." 

Again  :  *'  It  would  be  no  description  of  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff's gentleness  of  manner  to  adopt  the  common 
parlance,  and  say  that  he  looked  at  this  moment 
as  if  butter  wouldn't  melt  in  his  mouth.  He 
rather  looked  as  if  any  amount  of  butter  might 
have  been  made  out  of  him,  by  churning  the  milk 
of  human  kindness  as  it  spirted  upwards  from  his 
heart." 

Again  when  "  Mr.  Pecksniff,  towering  on  tiptoe 


232  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

among  the  curtains  as  if  he  were  literally  rising  above 
all  worldly  considerations,  and  were  fain  to  hold  on 
tight  to  keep  himself  from  darting  skywards  like  a 
rocket." 

"  M.  Todgers,  the  boarding-house  keeper,  was 
a  lady — rather  a  bony  and  hard-featured  lady — 
with  a  row  of  curls  in  front  of  her  head,  shaped  like 
little  barrels  of  beer,  and  on  the  top  of  it  something 
made  out  of  net — you  couldn't  call  it  a  cap  exactly — 
which  looked  like  a  black  cobweb." 

The  doorway  of  a  Georgian  house  at  Canterbury  : 
"  There  were  two  great  aloes  in  tubs  on  the  turf 
outside  the  windows,  the  broad  hard  leaves  of  which 
plant,  looking  as  if  they  were  made  of  painted  tin, 
have  ever  since  been  symbolical  to  me  of  silence 
and  retirement." 

Of  Mr.  Cruncher  eating  his  breakfast  :  "  Taking 
a  bite  out  of  his  bread  and  butter,  and  seeming  to 
help  it  down  with  a  large  invisible  oyster  out  of  his 


saucer." 


The  above  obiter  dicta  are  quoted  because  they 
show  that  Dickens  did  not  invent  odd  expressions 
and  queer  comparisons  solely  for  the  enhancement 
of  the  drollery  of  his  characters,  as  exemplified  in 
the  conversation  of  Tony  and  Sam  Weller  and  Mrs. 
Gamp,  but  they  are  found  pervading  the  descriptive 
text,  and  are  woven  in  the  very  warp  and  woof  of  it. 


CHARLES    DICKENS  233 

They  indicate  that  the  characters  are  not  gathered 
from  the  outside,  but  are  projected  from  the  very 
mind  of  Dickens  himself.  They  serve  two  purposes  ; 
first,  in  creating  an  atmosphere  which  makes  the 
characters  seem  natural,  secondly,  in  rendering  the 
descriptive  passages  sparkling  and  effective. 

An  Opinion  on  Pomps  and  Vanities 

By  the  kindness  of  Mr.  H.  P.  Harrison,  of 
Mossley  Hill,  Liverpool,  I  am  able  to  print  an  un- 
published letter  written  on  the  occasion  of  Dickens' 
last  public  appearance  in  Liverpool.  It  is  self- 
explanatory,  and  is  an  interesting  statement  of 
Dickens'  views  on  such  subjects. 

''  Adelphi  Hotel,  Liverpool, 
"  Monday,  Fifth  April,  1869. 

"  Sir, — In  reply  to  your  letter  of  enquiry,  I  beg 
to  inform  you  that  I  have  never  used  any  other 
armorial  bearings  than  my  father's  crest: — a  lion 
couchant,  bearing  in  his  dexter  paw  a  Maltese  cross. 
I  have  never  adopted  any  motto,  being  quite  in- 
different to  such  ceremonies. 

"  Faithfully  yours, 

*'  Charles  Dickens. 

"James  Orr  Marples,  Esq.' 


CHAPTER   XV 

HABLOT   BROWNE:    HIS   PERSONALITY 

AND   WORKS 

In  the  preceding  pages  I  have  endeavoured  to  give 
the  impressions  left  on  the  mind  of  a  child  by 
certain  men  and  the  circumstances  of  their  times. 
I  have  related  simply  the  chronicles  of  small-beer 
which  may  have  been  beneath  the  dignity  of  more 
ambitious  writers,  but  which  seem  to  me  to  have  con- 
tributed the  necessary  elements  in  the  picture  un- 
folded before  me  by  memory,  aided  of  course  owing 
to  my  tender  years  by  family  tradition  and  in- 
formation derived  from  friends,  of  whom  Uncle 
Bob  was  chief.  Without  some  understanding  of 
the  surprising  difference  in  social  life,  and  the  vast 
changes  that  have  taken  place  in  English  modes 
of  thought  and  the  appearance  of  the  country, 
I  should  fail  in  drawing  any  trustworthy  portrait  of 
the  man  in  whom  I  am  most  interested.  Human 
nature  remains  much  the  same  in  all  ages,  but  the 
doings  of  human  beings  vary  infinitely,  although 
they  are  always  strongly  influenced  by  the  doings 
of  the   mass.      I   propose    now   to   gather   up   the 

234 


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U<J. 


.•M- 


O  V 


:::  ,(<; 


u 


X. 


rt.> 


•*isf 


PERSONALITY   AND    WORKS         235 

scattered  threads,  and  picture  Hablot  Browne  as  a 
man  of  middle  age,  according  to  my  accumulated 
experience  of  him  during  the  most  impressionable 
period  of  my  life,  and  here  I  rest  directly  on  my 
own  observation. 

My  father  was  of  medium  height  and  of  stalwart 
appearance,  and  though  not  tall,  was  a  striking- 
looking  man  as  regards  the  head.  He  had,  like 
all  his  family,  a  long  body,  with  short  limbs,  a 
quantity  of  brown  hair,  very  fine  in  quality,  worn 
long  according  to  the  mode,  for  anyone  wearing  his 
hair  cropped,  according  to  the  present  fashion, 
would  have  been  subjected  to  gibes  and  inquiries 
from  street  boys  asking  when  he  came  out,  meaning 
from  the  gaol. 

Although  like  all  engravers  he  was  shortsighted, 
he  had  a  particularly  penetrating  eye,  and  he  seemed 
rather  to  look  through  than  merely  at  you.  He  had 
a  mobile  and  sensitive  mouth,  short  whiskers,  and 
at  a  later  period  he  grew  a  beard  and  moustache 
which,  by  hiding  the  mouth,  deprived  his  face  of 
some  of  its  expression.  He  was  very  careless  about 
his  dress,  and  had  to  be  taken  by  force  to  the  tailor, 
as  he  never  knew  when  his  suits  were  worn  out. 
He  generally  affected  dark  grey,  and  disliked  on  the 
one  hand  the  gloominess  of  black,  on  the  other  the 
gaiety  of  colour,  though  of  course  he  sported  the 


236  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

orthodox  black  coat  on  occasions,  and  from  time  to 
time  in  the  summer  he  followed  the  early  Victorian 
custom  of  wearing  white  ducks,  which  were  very 
popular,  strange  though  it  may  seem  to  us.  The 
custom  was  maintained  partly  under  the  delusion 
that  the  weather  was  hot,  and  partly  as  a  sort  of 
compliment  to  the  Duke  of  Wellington.  There 
was  nothing  flamboyant  or  suggestive  of  Bohemia 
about  him,  as  we  often  see  in  artists  nowadays. 
Indeed,  I  remember  a  tailor  once  saying  to  him  at 
a  fitting-on,  "  There,  you  look  like  a  banker."  If 
he  did,  the  likeness  was  entirely  superficial,  and 
imposed  upon  nobody.  He  hunted  for  some  years 
in  a  black  coat  and  top-hat,  but  afterwards  wore 
the  scarlet  coat  and  velvet  cap  of  his  Hunt. 

He  lived  so  entirely  in  his  work  and  a  world  of 
imagination,  that  it  is  impossible  to  describe  him  in 
the  ordinary  terms.  Politics  he  had  none,  though 
when  questioned  at  election  times  he  said  he  was  a 
Liberal,  more,  I  believe,  because  he  liked  the  sound 
of  the  word,  than  from  any  clear  idea  of  its  political 
significance.  He  certainly  had  a  holy  horror  of 
Radicals.  Cobden  and  Bright  he  considered  hum- 
bugs— why,  I  do  not  know.  He  took  sufficient 
interest  in  the  outer  world  to  read  The  Times  in  the 
evening,  but  his  interest  lay  in  general  events  and 
not  in  politics. 

/ 


PERSONALITY   AND    WORKS         237 

He  was  ignorant  of  the  ways  of  the  world,  and 
took  far  too  favourable  a  view  of  his  fellow-creatures. 
He  lived  under  the  delusion  that  people  generally 
were  disposed  to  befriend  and  serve  him.  He 
never  realised  that  he  was  being  exploited,  as  was 
often  the  case.  That  there  was  a  struggle  going  on 
for  place  and  profit,  and  that  there  were  people 
fully  disposed  to  give  him  a  push  downwards  for 
objects  of  their  own,  never  occurred  to  him.  He 
neglected  his  own  interests,  as  may  be  judged  from 
the  following  letter  from  John  Forster,  who  appears 
in  a  favourable  light  as  compared  with  many 
others  : — 

No  date  or  address. 

"My  dear  Browne, — They  are  getting  a  little 
anxious  at  White  Friars.  I  enclose  you  a  cheque — 
you  charged  too  little  for  the  design  of  the  cover. 
I  took  the  liberty  of  changing  the  five  guineas  into 
eight  guineas,  and  you  will  find  the  cheque  hereto 
corresponding. 

"  This  liberty  I  am  sure  you  will  excuse,  and 
believe  me,  my  dear  Browne,  always  sincerely 
yours,  John    Forster. 

"  Just  received  the  plates.  Send  me  word  what 
you  think  the  writing  underneath  should  be." 


238  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

Between  Browne  and  Forster  a  friendly  feeling 
always  existed,  though  it  never  ripened  into  a  warm 
friendship.  My  father  was  wont  to  call  him  a 
"  little  Doctor  Johnson,"  from  which  may  be  inferred 
a  certain  amount  of  pomposity  in  literary  style, 
but  the  great  Doctor's  lucidity  was  wanting.  For- 
ster's  own  style  was  involved  and  tortuous,  and  some- 
times obscure.  It  was  rather  in  the  matter  of  laying 
down  the  law  that  the  resemblance  lay. 

A  cabman  is  supposed  to  have  hit  him  off  exactly 
on  one  occasion  in  the  police  court.  The  cabman 
explained  that  it  was  not  only  his  parsimony,  but 
his  conduct  that  was  objectionable.  The  magistrate 
asked  where  the  offence  lay,  and  what  Mr.  Forster 
had  done  to  him.  "  Well,"  he  said,  "  he's  such  a 
harbitrary  gent.'* 

He  was  entirely  indifferent  to  public  opinion, 
and  lived  his  own  life,  but  was  very  careful  about 
annoying  other  people.  He  cared  nothing  for  titles, 
and  had  no  wish  for  what  is  known  as  social  position. 
He  had  scarcely  any  ambition,  and  certainly  regarded 
himself  as  a  very  ordinary  person.  He  had  no  desire 
to  make  money  beyond  what  was  necessary  for  the 
immediate  wants  of  the  household.  He  disliked 
gambling,  as  he  explained,  if  he  won,  he  did  not 
like  taking  the  money,  and  if  he  lost,  he  was  still 
more    annoyed.    This    was    the    more    remarkable 


PERSONALITY   AND   WORKS         239 

as  we  lived  for  so  many  years  within  easy  reach  of 
Epsom,  and  it  was  his  custom  to  ride  over  to  many 
of  the  important  meetings,  but  I  never  heard  of  him 
making  a  bet.  We  were  driven  over  by  the  groom 
in  the  chaise  to  the  Derby,  but  I  never  saw  the 
Oaks  run.  Our  custom  was  to  drive  to  a  certain 
knoll  which  commanded  a  view  of  the  starting  post, 
but  when  the  horses  got  off  we  galloped  at  the  top 
of  our  speed  a  few  hundred  yards  to  another  place 
of  vantage,  where  we  had  a  view  of  Tattenham 
Corner.  The  Governor  generally  joined  us,  and  we 
had  a  sort  of  picnic  in  the  chaise.  Thus  we  had  a 
long  day  in  the  open  air,  full  of  a  sense  of  rush  and 
motion,  crowds  and  festivity,  and  a  feeling  of  taking 
part  in  an  important  national  event,  without  being 
brought  into  contact  with  the  blackguardism  that 
abounded  in  the  crowd. 

He  spent  the  greater  part  of  his  time  in  the  studio, 
and  when  out  of  doors,  he  preferred  being  in  the 
saddle.  He  would  never  walk  fifty  yards  if  he  could 
throw  his  leg  over  a  horse.  I  don't  think  he  regarded 
himself  as  quite  complete  if  he  was  on  foot.  As  we 
could  not  be  all  mounted,  when  he  joined  in  the  family 
rambles  the  pony-chaise  was  always  taken,  and  walked 
over  the  most  extraordinary  places  where  there  was 
no  road,  over  fields,  bridle-paths,  downs  and  heaths, 
the  Governor  leading  the  pony.     The  return  journey 


240  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

was  generally  managed  by  the  road.  We  broke 
a  good  many  springs,  but  we  enjoyed  ourselves 
greatly. 

He  was  in  a  remarkable  degree  the  centre  of  the 
household.  My  mother  adored  him,  and  considered 
he  could  do  no  wrong.  We  boys  regarded  him  as 
our  best  friend,  and,  except  a  little  irritability  on  the 
score  of  noise,  I  never  saw  him  in  anything  approach- 
ing a  bad  temper.  When  a  hubbub  became  un- 
bearable he  would  sometimes  appear  with  a  hunting 
crop  and  lay  about  him  and  so  restore  order,  but 
though  there  was  a  great  appearance  of  vigour,  and 
great  sounds  of  cracking  the  whip,  there  was  little 
damage  done.  His  appearance  was  generally  cheer- 
ful and  debonair.  Indiscreet  friends  often  gave  us 
musical  instruments  in  the  shape  of  drums,  trumpets, 
and  so  forth,  which,  after  a  short  service,  mysteri- 
ously disappeared  in  the  night.  On  some  occasion 
of  a  move,  or  special  spring-clean,  a  huge  cupboard 
was  found  filled  with  a  whole  orchestra  of  these 
things,  and  he  was  forced  to  confess  that  he  had 
concealed  them.  Even  that  place  of  trial,  the 
dinner  table,  found  him  unruffled,  although  he  was 
by  no  means  insensible  to  good  cooking.  He  ate 
anything  that  was  given  him  without  a  growl. 
But  with  all  his  gentleness,  he  was  by  no  means 
a  muff,  although  he  was  easily  deceived  by  people 


PERSONALITY   AND   WORKS         241 

in  whom  he  beHeved.  He  was  occasionally  unex- 
pectedly sharp,  and  though  he  was  preserved  by  a 
curious  kind  of  pride  from  taking  any  revenge  or 
making  any  kind  of  fuss,  he  quietly  dropped  the 
offender.  He  was  a  brave  man,  and  faced  danger 
with  calmness  ;  physical  pain  he  bore  with  amazing 
fortitude. 

He  had  a  keen  sense  of  humour  and  of  the  ridicu- 
lous, but  was  very  soon  hurt,  and  strongly  senti- 
mental. He  concealed  this,  and  was  very  much 
ashamed  of  it.  I  believe  that  having  to  exploit  his 
comic  power  professionally  he  had  deceived  himself, 
and  rather  thought  he  was  a  fellow  of  good  common- 
sense  with  no  nonsense  about  him.  He  was  certainly 
surprised,  and  a  little  annoyed,  when  George  Henry 
Lewes,  after  studying  his  face  for  some  time,  used 
the  freedom  of  a  professional  critic  to  say  he  could 
not  see  any  humour,  but  he  saw  a  great  deal  of 
sentiment. 

He  was  by  nature  shy  and  given  to  self-efface- 
ment, and  when  he  became  a  busy  man,  and  had 
consequently  little  time  or  opportunity  for  social 
amusements,  these  tendencies  increased  till  his 
dread  of  strangers  amounted  to  a  detrimental 
feature  in  his  character.  It  became  very  difficult 
to  make  him  go  anywhere.  At  the  beginning 
of  his  career  he  was  certainly  considered  a  cheer- 

Q 


242  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

ful  companion,  and  took  a  part,  if  he  found 
himself  in  congenial  company,  in  any  fun  that  was 
going.  In  his  own  house,  even  after  he  had  given 
up  visiting,  if  people  could  be  brought  to  him,  he 
was  always  a  cheerful  host.  I  remember  on  festivals, 
like  Twelfth  Night,  he  was  by  no  means  backward 
in  promoting  the  general  merriment,  and  enjoyed 
these  friendly  gatherings.  But  by  living  so  much 
alone  in  his  studio,  having  an  innate  dislike  of  push, 
and  a  sort  of  natural  distrust  of  strangers,  he  gradu- 
ally worked  himself  up  till  it  was  difficult  to  get  him 
to  see  anybody  except  intimate  friends.  He  did  not 
realise  that  there  must  be  a  stage  before  intimacy. 

He  endeavoured  to  imbue  us  with  his  own  failings. 
He  took  particular  pains  to  impress  upon  us  that 
we  should  not  go  where  we  were  not  wanted,  and  he 
drew  a  picture  of  a  sort  of  bogey  man  in  every  house 
trying  to  resist  our  importunate  clamouring  for 
entry  at  his  door.  He  would  have  had  a  great 
effect  upon  us — indeed  he  had  more  than  was 
beneficial — and  if  it  were  not  a  law  of  nature  that 
young  people  are  gregarious,  we  should  have  had 
few  friends.  But  by  using  our  opportunities,  we 
made  a  great  many  in  other  people's  houses.  Though 
we  were  hedged  in  and  cautioned  against  intruding, 
he  never  said  a  word  if  we  filled  our  own  with  pals. 
No  objection  was  ever  raised,  even  if  his  dinner 


PERSONALITY   AND   WORKS         243 

was  put  off,  or  a  few  squares  of  the  dining-room 
windows  smashed.  His  good  temper  prevailed. 
Dinner  was  quite  as  pleasant  in  the  breakfast  room. 
Where  there  are  boys  and  balls  broken  panes  are 
a  logical  consequence,  and  a  glazier  was  always 
ready  to  attend  at  the  shortest  possible  notice. 
The  only  flaw  in  the  reasoning  was  that  other  people 
might  be  as  complacent  as  himself,  and  that  we  were 
no  greater  barbarians  than  our  friends. 


CHAPTER  XVI 
PHIZ   THE   ILLUSTRATOR 

"  Pickwick  "  and  "  Nickleby  " 

To  leave  the  man  and  come  to  his  work. 

It  has  already  been  related  how  on  the  death  of 
Seymour,  Browne  was  engaged  to  illustrate  Pick- 
wick. He  was  very  young,  and  with  very  little 
experience  in  illustrating,  and  to  follow  a  popular 
favourite  like  Seymour  was  no  easy  task.  Ob- 
viously the  first  thing  to  be  done  was  to  please  the 
public,  satisfy  the  author  and  the  publishers,  and  not 
to  exhibit  any  marked  inferiority  to  his  predecessor. 
He  not  only  succeeded  in  equalling,  but  surpass- 
ing Seymour.  It  was  soon  recognised  that  the  un- 
derstudy possessed  the  excellences  of  his  predecessor, 
and  in  addition  some  which  were  peculiar  to  himself. 

The  early  plates  as  regards  figures  were  evidently 
modelled  on  those  of  Seymour,  with  a  little  more 
refinement,  but  with  about  the  same  amount  of 
caricature.  The  Pickwickians,  of  course,  in  order 
to  preserve  a  continuity,  were  taken  directly  from 
Seymour's    inventions.    Then    came    up    in    rapid 

succession  a  number  of  new  characters  who  were 

244 


PHIZ   THE   ILLUSTRATOR  245 

all  original  and  excellent,  but  the  illustrations  are 
further  distinguished  by  the  finer  quality  of  the 
backgrounds.  There  was  always  something  bare 
and  insufficient  about  the  previous  backgrounds, 
whereas  Browne's  became  an  integral  part  of  the 
picture.  Note,  for  example,  the  background  of  the 
galleried  yard  of  the  old  inn,  where  Sam  Weller  is 
interviewed  by  Mr.  Wardle  and  his  friends  who 
are  in  pursuit  of  Jingle,  how  it  takes  away  from  the 
grotesquery  of  the  crowd,  and  lends  an  air  of  beauty 
to  the  whole  composition.  This  is  carried  a  step 
further  in  a  smaller  inn  yard  in  Nicholas  Nicklebyy 
where  Newman  Noggs  is  saying  good-bye  to  Nicholas. 
The  sense  of  beauty  is  there  intensified  by  the  sketches 
of  two  comely  chambermaids  who  are  leaning  over 
the  balustrade  talking  to  their  friends  below.  This 
tendency  to  introduce  a  beautiful  trifle  in  attenua- 
tion of  a  grotesque  belongs  to  Browne,  and  is  seen 
in  no  other  caricaturist  of  his  time. 

In  The  Fat  Boy  awake,  though  the  group  tells 
the  story  vividly,  it  only  forms  part  of  a  composition 
of  which  the  architecture  of  the  house  is  equally 
well  delineated,  and  which  prevents  the  drawing 
appearing  wholly  as  a  caricature.  When  Mr.  Pick- 
wick slides  he  has  a  background  of  a  very  pretty 
landscape.  Whether  the  accessories  be  architec- 
tural, or  landscape,  or  interiors  which  cannot   be 


246  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

beautified,  they  invariably  form  part  of  the  com- 
position, and  add  to  the  comprehension  of  the  story. 
We  note  in  his  earHer  books  an  evident  beUef  in 
his  duty  to  be  comic  at  all  costs,  and  it  is  noteworthy 
that  when  he  indulges  in  anything  graceful,  he  seems 
to  do  it  on  the  sly,  and  rather  as  a  concession  to  his 
own  weakness  than  to  open  display.  We  shall  be 
able  to  see  instances  of  this  by  comparing  some 
drawings  done  for  his  own  pleasure  with  those 
which  were  actually  published.  He  was  a  product 
of  his  times  and  of  the  immediate  past,  and  we 
must  remember  that  there  was  a  traditional  belief 
that  ugliness  was  funny.  Feelings  were  coarse,  and 
coarsely  expressed.  A  man  with  any  deformity 
was  openly  laughed  at,  and  might  be  jeered  at  or 
even  hooted  in  the  streets.  Rowlandson  (born  1756, 
died  1827),  who  was  the  ancestor  of  early  Victorian 
caricature,  and  undoubtedly  set  the  fashion  for  the 
succeeding  comic  draughtsmen,  had  a  fine  sense  of 
beauty.  There  are  even  to  be  found  in  his  pictures 
female  figures  which  for  gracefulness  had  never 
been  surpassed,  yet  his  drawings  are  crammed  with 
people,  obese,  flabby-cheeked,  broken-nosed,  one- 
eyed,  bandy-legged,  crook  -  backed,  bald-headed, 
knock-kneed,  loathsome  and  deformed,  who  were 
supposed  to  be  amusing,  and  who  did  indeed  vastly 
amuse  the  public. 


PHIZ   THE   ILLUSTRATOR  247 

Browne  came  about  the  turn  of  the  tide,  to 
serve  a  pubHc  avid  for  comicahty,  and  with  a 
traditional  taste  for  ugHness  and  distortion.  As 
a  young  man  he  was  anxious  to  please,  and  as  it 
happened  that  the  current  literature  was  vitiated 
by  similar  errors  in  taste,  his  path  was  set  out 
for  him  in  the  wrong  direction  from  the  first. 
And  then  for  a  young  man,  imperfectly  trained 
in  the  art  of  drawing,  it  was  easier  to  succeed  in  the 
grotesque  than  in  the  beautiful,  for  the  one  needs 
only  approximate  correctness,  but  the  other  depends 
entirely  on  good  draughtsmanship  for  the  realisation 
of  an  ideal.  We  therefore  find  him  in  the  early 
Dickens  books  pushed  on  by  circumstances  into 
the  position  of  caricaturist,  and  it  is  not  surprising 
that  the  glimpses  of  beauty  are  so  infrequent  and 
modest,  but  rather  that  there  were  any  at  all.  The 
public  did  not  ask  for  them,  but  there  seems  reason 
to  suppose  that  they  had  an  effect  in  insinuating 
a  taste  which  for  some  time  to  come  was  latent 
and  not  acknowledged. 

One  thing  is  certain,  whatever  his  faults  or  virtues 
Browne  exactly  fitted  the  situation,  and  was  rap- 
turously applauded  by  his  contemporaries.  We  must 
remember,  though  it  is  difficult  to  realise  the  fact, 
that  Dickens,  in  the  earlier  parts  of  Pickwick,  was 
almost  an  unknown  man.     If  he  had  been  an  ordinary 


248  PHIZ   AND   DICKENS 

writer,  depending  upon  a  continuous  story,  or  even 
a  series  of  adventures,  he  might  not  have  overcome 
the  clumsy  machinery  of  the  monthly  parts,  but 
he  was  entirely  independent  of  his  story,  and  relied 
consciously  on  an  untried,  but  prodigious,  capacity 
for  the  invention  of  eccentric  characters.  In  one  of 
his  letters  he  says  that  he  expects  to  make  a  success 
with  a  new  character  in  the  next  part.  The  char- 
acter was  Jingle,  who  was  in  fact  infinitely  amusing. 
The  ordinary  writer  introduced  his  few  characters 
at  the  beginning  of  the  book,  and  relied  on  them 
for  the  remainder  of  the  story.  But  Dickens  con- 
tinually produced  new  and  important  characters, 
so  that  each  monthly  part  was  likely  to  contain, 
to  his  reader's  great  delight,  a  surprise  and  an  im- 
provement. One  of  the  means  adopted  for  giving 
publicity  to  this  unsuspected  wealth  of  ideas  was 
by  means  of  illustrations,  which  from  month  to 
month  were  exposed  in  booksellers'  shop  windows. 
It  was  therefore  important  that  the  illustrator  should 
be  himself  of  a  ready  wit,  and  capable  of  dealing 
with   what   Mr.   Venus   later    on    called   "  assorted 


warious." 


Browne  exactly  filled  the  situation.  If  he  had 
been  an  ordinary  young  artist  with  an  insufficient 
training  he  would  probably  have  made  use  of 
models,    and    improved    the    academical    character 


PHIZ   THE    ILLUSTRATOR  249 

of  his  figures  with  a  corresponding  destruction 
of  their  vivacity  and  eccentricity,  but  tameness 
was  the  unforgivable  sin.  He  was  not  appalled 
by  any  difficulty  in  drawing,  but  he  had  a  vivid 
imagination  which  enabled  him  to  realise  a  scene 
or  a  character  from  a  few  hints.  He  drew  after 
the  fashion  of  a  child  who  will  draw  you  a  picture 
of  anything  without  even  glancing  at  the  reality. 
To  this  faculty  of  reproducing  at  will  unconscious 
impressions  he  owed  most  of  his  excellences,  to- 
gether with  most  of  his  faults.  Careful  adherence 
to  fact,  and  conscientious  reproduction  of  the  model 
and  still  life,  would  have  resulted  in  drawing  that 
might  have  had  a  great  artistic  value,  but  would 
not  have  represented  Dickens  in  the  slightest  degree. 
The  public  did  not  want  tame  or  beautiful  pictures. 
For  those  they  went  to  the  Royal  Academicians 
and  line  engravings,  which  were  to  be  had  of  ex- 
cellent quality,  but  the  demand  for  eccentric  char- 
acters seems  to  have  been  insatiable. 

Dickens  fostered  the  taste,  and  produced  an 
enormous  number  of  novelties,  and  when  he  pro- 
duced any  fresh  character,  Browne  seemed  to  have 
something  suitable  and  ready  up  his  sleeve. 

One  of  his  excellences  was  that  he  was  never  at 
a  loss,  and  did  not  require  time  to  think.  He  could 
act  on  the  spur  of  the  moment.     He  frequently  had 


250  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

to  exercise  his  invention,  and  it  was  better  for  the 
purpose  to  overstate  than  understate,  and  as  a  resuh 
there  was  visible  embodiment  of  a  succession  of 
persons  who  became  famiUar  friends.  The  illus- 
trations were  in  fact  the  "  cartes  de  visite  "  of  the 
characters.  Besides  the  Pickwickians  and  Jingle, 
who  belonged  to  Seymour,  we  have  Mr.  Sam  Weller, 
Job  Trotter,  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  and  Benjamin  Allen, 
Mrs.  Bardell  and  Mrs.  Cluppins,  The  Shepherd, 
who  is  immortal  as  Stiggins,  and  Mr.  Tony  Weller, 
not  forgetting  the  admirable  group  of  stout  stage 
coachmen  drinking  the  health  of  Mr.  Pell. 

In  Nicklehy  we  have  Squeers  and  John  Browdie, 
Ralph  Nickleby,  Arthur  Gride,  Mr.  Mantalini,  Sir 
Mulberry  Hawke,  Lord  Verisopht,  the  Cheeryble 
Brothers,  Tim  Linkinwater,  Mrs.  Nickleby,  Miss 
Knag,  Miss  La  Creevy,  Newman  Noggs,  the  Ken- 
wigs  family,  Mr.  Lilly vick  and  Miss  Petowker, 
the  Crummies  family  and  Smike. 

The  illustrations  in  Pickwick  and  Nicklehy  ex- 
hibit the  same  features.  In  the  latter  there  is  scarcely 
any  change,  either  in  general  conception  or  handling, 
the  drawing  does  not  improve  much,  and  the  comic 
power  remains  undiminished. 

From  the  beginning  there  is  shown  a  most  re- 
markable sense  of  composition.  It  matters  little 
whether  there  are  a  few  figures  or  many,  they  are 


PHIZ   THE   ILLUSTRATOR  251 

always  well  arranged,  and  though  the  disposition 
is  more  artificial  than  natural,  they  present  the 
appearance  of  being  entirely  natural  and  not  de- 
pending on  art.  The  more  crowded  a  composi- 
tion, the  more  manageable  it  seems.  Take,  for 
example,  Mr.  Pickwick  being  carried  before  Mr. 
Nupkins  the  magistrate  at  Ipswich.  The  figures 
are  all  in  a  state  of  excited  action,  and  have 
the  characteristic  appearance  of  a  crowd  having 
come  together  fortuitously,  and  not  as  if  they 
had  been  arranged  for  the  purpose  by  a  good 
stage-manager.  But  the  arrangement  is  actually 
very  artificial.  The  eye  is  carried  upward  to  Mr. 
Pickwick,  who  is  addressing  the  mob  from  the  open 
top  of  his  sedan  chair.  It  is  then  carried  farther  by 
the  quaint  gables  of  the  house  in  the  background, 
so  that  the  upper  edge  of  the  crowd  does  not  ab- 
ruptly cut  the  sky.  We  notice  that  the  sedan  chair 
is  of  very  considerable  proportions,  in  fact  it  assumes 
the  dignity  of  a  tower.  It  illustrates  a  character- 
istic that  stuck  to  Browne  throughout  his  life  of 
making  his  accessories  fit  the  picture,  instead  of 
treating  them  realistically. 

As  to  the  mob  of  the  Eatanswill  election,  or  rather 
two  mobs,  for  the  one  is  on  the  hustings,  the  other 
below  on  the  ground.  Both  groups  exhibit  great 
excitement,  and  though  the  individual    figures    are 


252  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

easily  made  out,  the  whole  masses  together  and 
joins  with  the  fabric  of  the  hustings  to  make  a 
harmonious  composition. 

In  Nicholas  Nickleby  we  find  very  slight  change 
in  the  style  of  work.  The  draughtsmanship  and 
technique  and  comic  power  remain  practically  on 
the  same  level.  The  extraordinary  power  of  com- 
position is  still  fully  displayed,  though  there  are 
no  great  crowds,  except  in  the  three  plates  con- 
cerning Dotheboys  Hall,  first,  where  Mrs.  Squeers 
is  administering  brimstone  and  treacle,  secondly, 
the  castigation  of  Squeers  by  Nicholas,  and  thirdly, 
the  breaking  up  of  Dotheboys  Hall.  In  all  these 
the  crowds  have  the  appearance  of  an  artless  and 
confused  jumble  of  boys,  but  on  examination  the 
actions  of  particular  boys  can  be  made  out,  and  the 
whole  group  is  found  to  fit  into  its  place  to  the  best 
pictorial  advantage.  The  other  subjects  only  in- 
clude a  few  figures,  but  they  are  invariably  grouped, 
so  that  if  taken  in  conjunction  with  the  background 
they  fill  the  space  to  the  best  advantage.  As  in 
the  former  book,  there  are  glimpses  of  landscape 
and  architecture,  ancient  churches,  big  rooms,  de- 
corations always  harmonising  with  and  adding  to 
the  value  of  the  groups.  When  a  place  is  squalid, 
like  Mrs.  Nickleby 's  lodging,  its  character  is  frankly 
accepted,   and   no   attempt   is   made   to   give   it   a 


PHIZ   THE   ILLUSTRATOR  253 

pictorial  character.  An  unabated  comic  power  is 
shown  in  deaUng  with  the  MantaHnis,  especially 
in  one  plate  showing  Mr.  Mantalini,  clad  in  flam- 
boyant garments,  chaff"ering  with  the  broker's  man 
in  possession,  in  the  midst  of  a  number  of  dress- 
maker's stands,  and  in  our  last  glimpse  of  him 
turning  a  mangle  for  an  irate  lady  who  has  no 
pretence  to  fashion.  In  all  the  pictures  he  is  as 
amusing  as  in  the  text. 

We  have  also  in  this  book  the  first  example  of  a 
beautiful  object  being  made  the  centre  of  the  picture 
in  the  fainting  figure  of  Madeline  Bray,  on  the  morn- 
ing of  her  projected  marriage  to  Arthur  Gride. 

It  is  worthy  of  remark  that  here,  as  in  Pickwick, 
an  improvement  in  academic  draughtsmanship  would 
have  been  of  no  value  in  the  production  of  these  illus- 
trations. They  were  the  product  of  the  artist's  im- 
agination, showing  the  author's  intention  as  a  whole, 
and  not  allowing  any  correction  from  the  visible 
world  to  compete  with  or  disturb  the  realised  image. 
The  resulting  sketch  was  an  effort  to  give  prominence 
to  these  figments  of  the  imagination,  and  the  public 
seemed  fully  prepared  to  accept  these  suggestions. 
The  absurdity  of  Mr.  Mantalini  seen  in  the  shop 
window  was  accepted  as  a  promise  to  pay  in  the 
text  when  it  was  read  at  home. 

The   realistic   view   of  art,   the   record   of  visual 


254  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

impressions,  did  not  exist,  or,  if  it  did,  was  confined 
to  the  select  few  who  had  trained  themselves  by 
the  study  of  the  old  masters.  What  the  man  in  the 
street  wanted  was  a  joke  which  he  could  understand 
in  a  drawing  or  a  paragraph,  and  with  Browne  and 
Dickens  in  conjunction  he  got  what  he  desired  from 
both. 

In  these  two  books,  if  we  except  Dotheboys  Hall, 
which  has  a  social  purpose,  and  is  merely  an  episode, 
we  have  dealt  entirely  with  caricature  and  eccen- 
tricity, and  with  these  two  books  we  come  to  the 
end  of  unadulterated  jocosity. 


(( 


Master  Humphrey's  Clock  " 


The  next  venture  was  a  weekly  periodical  con- 
cerning some  old  characters,  Mr.  Pickwick,  Mr. 
Weller  and  Sam,  and  some  new  ones.  Master  Hum- 
phrey, Mr.  Mills,  and  one  who  is  only  mentioned 
as  the  deaf  gentleman.  These  arrange  to  meet 
one  night  every  week  as  the  clock  strikes  ten,  and 
to  separate  when  the  clock  strikes  two.  They  meet 
to  read  manuscripts,  which  had  been  deposited  at 
the  bottom  of  Master  Humphrey's  clock  case. 
The  narratives,  though  published  in  weekly  frag- 
ments, were  intended  to  be  complete  novels, 
and  two  of  these  manuscripts  were  published  as 
complete    stories    under    the    titles    respectively    of 


.:^ 


■'  U: 


\ 


■r 


/ 


\  ' 


>*.. 


•> 


TIIK  MARCIIIONf:SS,  "OLD  CURIOSITY  SHOP." 
Skckk  on  Utter  paper. 


PHIZ   THE   ILLUSTRATOR  255 

The  Old  Curiosity  Shop  and  Barnaby  Rudge.  The 
clumsy  machinery  for  providing  a  Hnk  between 
a  number  of  stories  was  found  to  be  unpopular 
with  readers  and  irksome  to  the  author,  and  the 
publications  were  discontinued  on  the  completion 
of  Barnaby  Rudge,  the  second  story. 

The  illustrations  were  executed  on  wood,  as  was 
the  common  practice  for  cheap  publications,  on 
account  of  the  convenience  of  being  able  to  print 
the  letterpress  and  drawings  simultaneously  at  the 
same  press.  Cattermole,  an  excellent  water-colour 
painter,  was  chosen  as  co-illustrator,  and  the  name 
"  Phiz  "  was  dropped,  and  Hablot  K.  Browne  for 
the  first  time  appeared  under  his  own  name  as  an 
original  illustrator.  He  was  thought  by  some  astute 
judges  to  be  better  than  Phiz,  though  it  was  admitted 
by  all  that  the  style  was  somewhat  similar. 

I  have'  mentioned  in  an  earlier  part  of  the  book 
that  Browne  was  never  so  successful  on  wood  as 
on  steel.  He  really  drew  better  with  a  lead  pencil 
than  with  any  other  material,  but  the  charm  of  these 
drawings  depended  principally  on  the  subtlety  with 
which  he  modified  a  tone  by  varying  his  pressure 
from  hard  to  soft,  or  in  width,  according  as  he 
varied  from  the  use  of  the  point  to  the  side  of  his 
black  lead.  In  drawing  on  wood  he  was  obliged 
to  use  a  very  hard  pencil,  and  to  depend  on  the 


256  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

point  alone,  so  that  his  work  resembled  a  coarse 
kind  of  etching,  and  very  often  had  to  suffer  from 
translation  at  the  hands  of  the  engraver,  who  sub- 
stituted for  a  lively  line  a  mechanical  one,  and  treated 
spaces  of  shade  by  cutting  in  tint.  To  the  end  his 
work  on  wood  suffered  from  these  drawbacks,  and 
he  lost  greatly  in  translation,  as  Dickens  himself 
does  when  translated  into  French.  Dickens,  I  may 
here  add,  appears  as  an  excellent  writer  in  French, 
but  differing  exceedingly  from  the  author  with 
whom  we  are  familiar. 

Browne's  style  as  an  illustrator  was  not  much 
altered.  He  still  conceived  it  his  duty  or  his  pleasure 
to  give  the  full  value  to  the  fantastic  and  grotesque 
elements.  In  the  opening  work.  The  Old  Curiosity 
Shop,  he  fastened  securely  on  the  real  hero,  Quilp. 
He  succeeded  in  producing  a  visible  embodiment 
of  the  little  brute.  Quilp  was  a  dwarf,  and,  accord- 
ing to  popular  superstition,  was  supposed  to  be 
endowed  with  malicious  qualities.  He  was  malig- 
nant, vicious,  reckless,  cruel ;  he  had  a  selfish,  alert 
mind,  and  great  bodily  activity  and  strength.  The 
drawings  are  not  caricatures,  as  might  be  supposed 
without  reference  to  the  text,  but  represented  the 
monstrosity  of  the  creature.  The  remarkable 
thing  is  that  there  has  been  no  fumbling.  He  is 
represented    exactly    as    he    lived.     His    appalling 


/J 


i\, 


I 

M 


h. 


ij 


\ 


^o 


kHJt 


^•^jif 


Till':    MARCHIONESS. 

Zi.v/ra  iUiistralion  to  "  The  Old  Curioxity  .S/io/>,"  puhlishcil  by 
H.  K.  Broxcne  and  Robert  Young. 


PHIZ   THE   ILLUSTRATOR  257 

vitality  where  he  is  seated  on  his  desk  perplexed 
by  a  letter  brought  by  little  Nell  ;  or  squinting 
out  of  his  hammock  at  his  terrified  little  wife  ;  or 
with  undaunted  courage  infuriating  a  dog  just  out- 
side of  the  limit  of  his  chain  ;  or  torturing  Sampson 
Brass  ;  or  looking  out  of  the  window  bursting 
with  malignant  glee  as  Kit  is  taken  to  prison — he 
is  always  alive,  full  of  exuberant  energy,  till  at  the 
end  we  see  him  lying,  a  hideous  corpse,  in  the  slimy 
ooze  of  the  river,  in  the  pallid  twilight  of  the  dawn. 
All  the  other  characters  fade  into  insignificance 
beside  the  robust  personality  of  Quilp.  But  Samp- 
son and  Sally  Brass  are  caricatured  with  a  harsh 
hand.  Author  and  illustrator  alike  intended  them 
to  appear  loathsome  without  any  redeeming  trait, 
and  horror  indeed  prevails  throughout  the  whole 
book.  In  Brass's  office  at  Bevis  Marks,  at  Quilp's 
wharf,  Swiveller's  lodging,  all  is  dismal  and  dirty. 
Browne  had  no  option  but  to  make  them  appear  so, 
contrary  to  his  usual  custom.  The  travelling  show- 
men gave  an  opportunity  for  a  little  wholesome 
grotesque.  The  drawings  of  Codlin  and  Short 
mending  their  puppets  in  the  churchyard,  and 
Mrs.  Jarley  drinking  tea,  are  wholesome  and  plea- 
sant to  look  upon,  and  one  or  two  opportunities 
of  sketching  pleasant  little  landscapes  have  been 
seized  upon. 

R 


258  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

The  second  book  to  appear  in  the  series  of  Master 
Humphrey's  Clock  was  Barnaby  Rudge,  in  which 
perhaps  the  reader  may  trace  the  influence  of  Ains- 
worth  in  the  selection  of  crime  for  the  human  sub- 
ject, and  the  influence  of  Scott  combining  it  with 
a  historical  episode  in  which  the  characters  could 
play  their  parts.  In  the  beginning  of  the  book 
we  come  upon  a  murder  which  in  a  very  short 
time  appears  a  mere  peccadillo.  There  is  hardly 
a  decent  character  in  the  book.  The  most  respect- 
able are  the  Varden  family.  The  head  of  the  house- 
hold is  Gabriel  Varden,  an  honest  blacksmith, 
henpecked  by  his  shrewish  wife,  egged  on  by  her 
sycophantic  ally,  Miggs,  and  their  daughter  Dolly, 
a  shallow,  heartless  coquette,  and  an  apprentice, 
Simon  Tappertit,  a  burlesque  conspirator,  who  is 
of  folly  all  compounded,  and  involved  in  crimes  of 
which  he  cannot  see  the  enormity. 

At  the  far-famed  country  inn,  The  Maypole  at 
Chigwell,  the  landlord,  old  John  Willett,  is  a  wooden- 
headed  fool,  his  son  John  a  booby,  his  ostler  Hugh 
a  ruffian.  These  are  the  people  for  whom  our  interest 
is  claimed,  for  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Harewood,  who  are 
honest,  are  creatures  of  straw.  On  the  historical 
side  we  come  upon  Lord  George  Gordon,  a  fanatic 
who  works  on  the  bad  passions  of  an  ignorant  mob 
by  appealing  to  their  fears  and  inherited  hatred  of 


•  >^ 


p 


MIGGS. 

As  prinlcd  in  the  text  of  "  Barnu'ty  Rudge." 


PHIZ  THE  ILLUSTRATOR  259 

Popery  to  commit  arson  and  deeds  of  violence ; 
Gashford,  an  imitation  fanatic ;  and  Dennis,  the 
common  hangman  ;  finally,  we  have  the  hero, 
Barnaby  Rudge,  a  harmless  lunatic ;  his  weak- 
witted  mother  and  her  husband,  a  skulking  mur- 
derer hiding  from  justice.  That  there  are  some 
amusing  passages  in  the  book  cannot  be  denied,  but 
they  lack  the  spontaneity  of  the  preceding  books, 
and  the  prevailing  impression  is  one  of  dismal  and 
motiveless  crime. 

In  the  midst  of  this  crowd  the  only  creature 
who  is  really  amusing  is  Barnaby 's  pet  raven. 
Grip.  Dickens'  description  of  the  riots  are  among 
the  best  of  the  kind  that  he  or  anyone  else  ever 
penned.  Browne  as  usual  managed  his  crowds 
with  force  and  skill,  notably  on  three  occasions, 
one  where  the  rioters  have  surged  into  a  street, 
and  are  throwing  furniture  out  of  the  windows, 
and  are  piling  the  fragments  in  heaps  and  burn- 
ing everything,  including  ornaments  pillaged  from 
the  churches.  Another,  where  the  mob  in  front 
of  Newgate  have  brought  Varden  by  force  to 
pick  the  lock  of  the  prison  :  though  they  threaten 
him,  and  he  is  within  an  ace  of  dying  a  violent  death, 
the  old  man  stands  firm  and  defies  them,  a  very 
noble  and  resolute  figure.  A  third,  where  they  have 
beaten  in  some  barrels  of  wine,  which  is  flowing 


26o  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

over  the  street  and  running  down  the  kennel  so 
that  the  mob  drink  to  intoxication. 

The  reader  will  notice  that  Cattermole  was  ham- 
pered by  the  technique  of  wood  engraving.  As 
a  water-colour  artist  his  style  was  characterised 
by  great  breadth.  In  these  books  the  architectural 
subjects  for  which  he  had  been  specially  engaged 
though  picturesque,  are  scratchy  and  colourless. 
A  few  drawings  which  have  been  carefully  finished 
are  without  interest.  His  representations  of  Quilp 
have  no  life  in  them.  They  make  him  appear  like 
a  stuffed  figure  incapable  of  movement.  Regarding 
the  illustrations  as  material  for  observing  the 
development  of  Browne,  there  is  nothing  giving 
any  indication  of  progress  except  the  interpolation 
of  pleasant  little  rural  landscapes. 

Dickens  brought  Master  Humphrey's  Clock  to 
a  conclusion  in  November  1841,  and  in  his  address 
to  the  reader  he  wrote,  "  On  the  ist  November 
1842  I  purpose,  if  it  please  God,  to  commence  my 
new  book  in  monthly  parts,  under  the  old  green  cover 
and  the  old  size  and  form,  and  at  the  old  price," 
and  in  fulfilment  of  this  promise  Martin  Chuzzle- 
wit  appeared  accordingly.  But  apparently  the  first 
number  was  delayed  till  January  1843. 


/x 


MIGGS   AND    MRS.   VARDEN. 
Extra  illuslration  to  "  Barnaby  Rudgc,"  puhlishe.l  hy  H.  K.  Brouine  ami  Robert  Young. 


PHIZ  THE  ILLUSTRATOR  261 

"  Martin  Chuzzlewit  " 

Dickens  had  passed  a  considerable  portion  of  the 
interval  in  America,  and  had  taken  a  holiday  from 
sustained  literary  composition  for  more  than  a  year. 
He  was  therefore  mentally  very  fresh  and  vigorous, 
and  it  is  not  surprising  that  the  new  book  was  one 
of  the  most  brilliantly  written  of  the  whole  series. 
For  those  of  us  who  know  it  only  as  a  completed 
work  the  book  may  be  almost  divided  into  three 
volumes,  one  of  which  is  concerned  with  Pecksniff; 
another  with  America,  where  Martin  is  merely  a 
spectator  of  the  American,  and  a  vehicle  for  many 
of  Dickens'  own  opinions,  formed  during  his  own 
holiday  in  the  United  States  ;  and  a  third  is  concerned 
with  the  sayings  and  doings  of  Mrs.  Gamp.  Even 
experienced  readers  of  Dickens,  accustomed  to  his 
extraordinary  digressions,  must  be  startled  at  the 
intrusion  of  the  American  piece  between  two  such 
excellent  morsels  as  the  first  and  third  parts.  But 
we  must  remember  that  during  its  composition  he 
never  took  the  completed  book  sufficiently  into 
consideration,  but  always  worked  with  reference 
to  the  number  immediately  in  hand.  He  regarded 
each  part  as  being  self-contained,  and  like  a  maga- 
zine, carrying  sufficient  interesting  matter  to  be 
attractive  to  the  buyer. 

When  it  was  discovered  that  the  public  were  not 


262  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

rushing  to  buy  with  their  former  eagerness,  Dickens 
introduced  some  of  his  American  experiences  to 
stimulate  interest  and  curiosity.  Possibly  they 
succeeded  in  so  doing,  though  I  suspect  that  the  in- 
creased sale  which  followed  their  introduction  was 
more  probably  due  to  Pecksniff  becoming  more 
widely  known,  and,  from  a  literary  point  of  view, 
more  highly  esteemed.  It  is  impossible  to  conceive 
a  public  already  acquainted  with  Dickens*  writing, 
and  therefore  fully  possessed  with  a  sense  of  humour, 
not  to  have  been  highly  delighted  with  Pecksniff 
and  M.  Todgers.  Dickens  was  always  unduly 
captious  about  his  crumpled  rose-leaf,  and  unduly 
ambitious  in  regard  to  quick  monetary  returns. 
He  doubtless  expected  the  public  would  rush  at 
him  after  his  long  absence,  forgetting  that  enthu- 
siasm requires  some  little  time  to  be  aroused. 

Whatever  may  have  been  thought  by  contempor- 
aries, the  American  portions  are  felt  as  unwelcome 
intrusion  in  the  completed  book,  if  for  no  other 
reason  than  that  they  distract  our  attention,  and 
delay  our  acquaintanceship  with  Mrs.  Gamp. 

Undoubtedly  the  American  chapters  gave  great 
offence  to  the  United  States.  The  American,  less 
versed  than  ourselves  in  Dickens'  methods,  did  not 
understand  that  it  was  his  ingrained  custom  to  pro- 
duce a  literary  effect  by  the  description  of  oddities. 


PHIZ  THE  ILLUSTRATOR  263 

monstrosities  and  scoundrels,  and  that  he  generally 
overstated  his  case.  Added  to  this,  his  visit  was 
so  recent,  that  the  observations  put  into  the  mouth 
of  Martin  were  regarded  as  his  own  personal  con- 
victions. He  must  certainly  have  seen  more  of  the 
shady  side  of  America  than  might  have  been  ex- 
pected, and  he  was  undeniably  annoyed  by  some 
circumstances  of  his  reception. 

But  he  certainly  cannot  have  intended  to  imply 
that  America  had  a  monopoly  of  scoundrelism. 
Without  counting  the  disreputable  personages  in 
his  last  two  books,  The  Old  Curiosity  Shop  and 
Barnaby  Rudge,  we  find  side  by  side  in  the  pages 
of  Martin  Chuzzlewit  Mr.  Scadder  and  Montague 
Tigg,  not  to  mention  Jonas — certainly  America 
could  not  have  produced  anything  worse — and  the 
Anglo-Bengalee  may  be  considered  on  the  same 
plane  as  the  City  of  Eden.  But  undoubtedly  at  the 
time  much  soreness  was  seriously  felt,  and  journals 
professing  to  represent  national  opinion,  bespattered 
Dickens  with  abuse,  and  indulged  in  stories  and 
inventions — inventions  with  not  the  slightest  founda- 
tion in  fact — concerning  what  would  be  in  any  other 
country  his  private  life.  No  garbage  was  too  filthy 
to  be  handled,  no  scandal  was  too  gross  to  be  printed, 
if  only  there  was  a  chance  of  wounding  feelings 
or  injuring  reputation.     Dickens  had  certainly  not 


264  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

handled  the  gutter-press  gently,  and  he  had  not 
exercised  any  discrimination  or  selection  in  his 
text.  He  had  not  even  allowed  the  existence  of  one 
just  man  who  might  have  saved  the  country.  The 
gutter-press  were  out  for  revenge,  and  they  pounced 
like  wild  beasts.  The  general  tone  of  journalism 
is  amusingly  satirised  by  Bon  Gaultier  in  a  ballad 
professing  to  embody  the  American  opinion  of 
Dickens. 

"The  American's  Apostrophe  to  '  Boz.' 

"  We  received  thee  warmly — kindly — though  we  knew  thou 

wert  a  quiz, 
Partly  for  thyself  it  may  be,  chiefly  for  the  sake  of  Phiz, 
Much  we  bore  and  much  we  suffered,  listening  to  remorseless 

spells 
Of  that  Smike's  unceasing  drivellings,  and   those  everlasting 

Nells." 

The  temporary  irritation  soon  subsided,  and  only 
the  literary  error  is  permanent.  In  the  United 
States  are  to  be  found  some  of  his  most  enthusiastic 
admirers,  and  on  his  second  visit  for  the  purpose 
of  giving  public  readings,  his  reception  was  over- 
whelming. Truly  indeed  it  may  be  said,  it  is  a 
good  thing  to  begin  with  a  little  aversion. 

The  change  in  the  author's  style  from  the  extrava- 
gantly comic  or  melodramatic  to  one  more  sub- 
dued, though  indeed  eloquent  in  dealing  with  the 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT    IN    BKD    AT   THE    llLUE   DRAGON. 


PHIZ  THE  ILLUSTRATOR  265 

ordinary  affairs  of  life,  tempted  Browne  to  appear 
in  his  true  character.  We  find  at  once  that  a  pro- 
found change  has  taken  place  in  the  illustrations  ; 
the  drawing  is  immensely  improved,  and  beauty, 
which  had  only  been  furtively  shown,  is  now  openly 
displayed.  Humour  is  more  delicate,  and  is  only 
employed  to  impart  the  cheerful  interest  which  is 
necessary  to  represent  the  author.  The  picturesque 
may  be  said  to  take  the  leading  position,  and  in  the 
midst  of  well-arranged  objects  forming  a  pictorial 
composition  the  characters  take  their  natural  place. 

We  find  a  tendency,  which  afterwards  became 
habitual,  to  impart  a  certain  dignified  aspect  to 
common  objects.  We  note  in  the  first  picture  of 
old  Martin  in  bed  at  the  Dragon  that  the  curtains 
have  a  fulness  and  dignity  more  likely  to  be  seen 
in  the  chambers  of  Louis  XIV  than  in  a  country 
inn.  The  buxom  form  of  Mrs.  Lupin  and  the 
elegant  figure  of  Mary  Graham  strike  a  new  note. 
We  start  at  once  with  style  and  dignity.  We  notice 
that  the  drawing  is  firm,  the  handling  free  ;  all 
signs  of  immaturity  have  vanished. 

In  the  second  picture  we  see  the  character  who 
has  become  part  of  our  national  literature,  and  whose 
name  has  provided  our  language  with  adjectives 
and  epithets  in  general  use.  We  see  the  real  hero 
of  the  book,  the  moral  Pecksniff,  in  the  bosom  of 


266  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

his  family.  It  might  well  have  been  doubted  whether 
the  character  which  rests  so  entirely  on  punctilious 
and  hypocritical  expressions  and  an  affectation  of 
unselfish  piety  could  have  been  pictorially  repre- 
sented. He  appealed  to  the  ear — could  he  be  made 
to  appeal  to  the  eye  ?  Undoubtedly  Browne's 
picture — grotesque,  but  not  too  grotesque — serves 
its  purpose.  As  a  portrait,  it  bears  the  impression 
of  being  a  personal  likeness  to  Dickens'  character — 
it  might  have  been  sketched  from  life,  if  there  had 
been  anything  to  sketch  from.  Had  he  been  too 
seriously  considered  he  might  have  produced  the  im- 
pression of  a  solemnity  and  piety  that  were  genuine 
and  not  spurious,  a  mistake  that  would  have  been 
fatal.  But  here,  though  treated  with  a  gentle  hand, 
with  just  a  spice  of  exaggeration,  he  proclaims  the 
humbug  as  effectually  as  if  he  wore  a  placard. 
Contrary  to  his  usual  custom,  Dickens  introduced 
Pecksniff  without  a  full  description  of  his  outward 
appearance  and  costume.  When  we  first  hear  of 
him  he  is  knocked  down  by  his  own  street  door, 
and  when  the  description  is  afterwards  taken  in 
hand,  so  much  emphasis  is  laid  on  the  moral 
significance  of  the  different  articles  of  his  clothing, 
to  the  neglect  of  their  texture,  that  it  is  by  no  means 
easy  to  form  an  idea  of  his  appearance.  Browne 
therefore  had  something  of  a  free  hand,  and  evolved 


PHIZ  THE  ILLUSTRATOR  267 

from  his  imagination  a  personage  of  remarkable 
individuality,  who  once  seen  is  never  forgotten. 
He  substituted  a  black  cravat  in  place  of  the  white, 
which  is  the  most  definitely  described  article  of 
attire  in  the  text.  Barnard  pointed  out  to  me  that 
this  substitution  was  advantageous  in  the  etching, 
as  it  enhanced  the  visibility  of  the  open  throat. 
Black  was  of  course  suitable  for  piety  and  for  Peck- 
sniff as  a  widower,  and  was  really  intended  to  mark 
the  dress  from  the  attire  of  the  worldly,  who  were 
accustomed  to  swathe  the  throat  in  a  satin  stock, 
which  fell  in  ample  folds  over  the  chest,  and  was 
secured  by  pins  of  price.  If  the  description  had 
been  carefully  followed,  the  result  would  have  been 
a  mild-looking  person  with  just  a  suspicion  of  cleri- 
calism in  his  attire,  of  an  aspect  of  too  little  bodily 
exercise  and  the  frequent  indulgence  in  muffins,  of 
too  much  speaking  and  too  little  doing.  A  close 
adherence  to  the  specification  might  have  pleased 
the  costumier,  but  would  not  have  corresponded 
with  the  general  trend  of  the  character  as  revealed 
in  the  body  of  the  text.  Pecksniff  was  not  one  of 
those  laymen  who  hang  about  the  vestry  and  ape 
the  manners  of  some  popular  clergyman.  He  is 
not  doleful  or  lugubrious.  He  is  intellectually  alert, 
of  infinite  resource,  and  unfailingly  witty. 

Nothing    is    more    admirable    than    the    delicacy 


268  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

with  which  Dickens  has  avoided  the  stock  phrases 
of  the  profoundly  pious,  and  avoided  the  introduc- 
tion of  sacred  names  and  persons  which  must  have 
figured  in  a  reaUstic  description.  Pecksniff  is  not 
at  all  like  a  clergyman,  and  it  was  in  the  highest 
degree  important  that  no  reflection  should  seem  to 
be  cast  upon  the  cloth.  He  is  not  to  be  taken  too 
seriously,  for  he  is  a  humorist,  and  many  subtle 
phrases  show  that  he  passes  his  goods  out  with  the 
air  of  a  cheerful  giver.  He  is  a  light-hearted  humbug, 
and  must  be  shown  to  have  no  connection  with 
real  piety  and  genuine  morality,  which  might  have 
seemed  implied  if  he  had  resembled  a  clergyman 
in  appearance.  Therefore  he  is  rightly  represented 
and  unmistakable.  As  it  is  he  would  have  suited 
any  profession  ;  he  might  have  been  in  any  profession 
in  which  extreme  respectability  and  super-probity 
might  be  desirable.  He  filled  the  position  with  his 
triple-peaked  hair,  his  huge  chops  and  open  throat, 
and  the  middle-aged  rotundity  of  his  waistcoat. 

No  one  looking  at  the  drawing  of  Mr.  Pecksniff, 
as  he  sits  in  front  of  the  fire  surrounded  by  his  archi- 
tectural designs,  faced  by  his  portrait,  and  supported 
by  his  two  daughters,  but  is  convinced  that  he  be- 
holds the  pious  Mr.  Pecksniff  and  no  other.  There 
are  no  less  than  ten  illustrations  with  Mr.  Pecksniff 
playing  the    principal    part.     We    see   him   in   his 


..-I        .' 


t 


MARTIN   CIIUZZLKWIT. 

The  moral  Pecksniff  ttt  the  bosom  of  his  family. 


PHIZ   THE   ILLUSTRATOR  269 

triumphs,  and  we  see  him  in  his  ignominious  defeat. 
The  character  in  the  whole  series  is  admirably 
sustained. 

Perhaps  Mr.  Pecksniff  is  seen  at  his  very  best 
when,  a  perfect  emblem  of  gentle  resignation,  he 
goes  to  summon  Mrs.  Gamp.  He  is  then  surrounded 
by  matrons,  who  press  upon  him  with  offers  of  assist- 
ance in  the  belief  that  he  is  an  expectant  father. 
The  mean  little  fronts  of  Poll  Sweedlepipe's  and  the 
mutton-pie  shop  form  the  background,  and  identify 
Mrs.  Gamp's  residence.  In  the  midst  of  the  slat- 
terns we  see  one  good-looking  woman  slightly  re- 
deeming the  prevailing  ugliness. 

Browne  evidently  worked  from  his  imagination, 
founded  upon  Dickens'  description  of  which  cer- 
tain bits  suited  his  purpose  and  were  fitted  in,  and 
I  feel  certain  he  did  not  know  who  was  the  re- 
puted original.  Even  if  he  did,  he  would  not  have 
taken  any  feature  from  him,  as  his  dislike  to  person- 
ality was  extreme  ;  in  fact  he  refused  to  join  the  staff 
of  Punch  because  he  believed  the  paper  was  to  be 
personal. 

Although  Mr.  Pecksniff's  visit  to  Kingsgate  Street 
was  not  on  account  of  a  birth  (to  the  disgust  of  the 
assembled  matrons),  it  did  accomplish  the  intro- 
duction of  his  only  rival  in  the  book — Mrs.  Gamp. 
She  is  probably  the  most  universally  popular  char- 


270  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

acter  in  the  crowded  groups  of  Dickens.  Her  name 
has  clung  to  the  ladies  of  her  profession,  and  has 
become  the  accepted  and  convenient  synonym  for 
an  umbrella.  Mrs.  Gamp  has  a  vocabulary  of  her 
own,  and  an  extraordinary  way  of  perverting  the 
English  language,  but  she  has  in  addition  a  scheme 
of  philosophy  and  proverbial  wisdom  suited  to  all 
occasions,  such  as  is  to  be  found  in  vulgar  persons 
who  are  placed  from  time  to  time  in  positions  of 
brief  authority.  Fully  to  comprehend  the  genius 
of  Mrs.  Gamp  it  will  be  found  instructive  to  read 
her  in  French,  when  she  becomes  frankly  a  philo- 
sopher on  life  and  does  not  even  raise  a  smile,  and 
though  vastly  instructive,  is  comparatively  dull. 
Her  sometime  "  pardner,"  Betsy  Prig,  is  but  a  pale 
shadow  of  her  personality,  and  if  she  had  not  been, 
when  primed  with  liquor,  capable  of  doubting  the 
existence  of  Mrs.  Harris,  she  might  have  escaped 
immortality.  As  it  is,  she  provokes  the  quarrel, 
which  is  reckoned  among  the  decisive  battles  of 
the  world. 

Mrs.  Gamp  is  a  great  literary  triumph  and  vindi- 
cation of  the  Dickensian  method.  In  reality  she 
is  a  mean,  grasping,  drunken,  cruel,  detestable  old 
woman,  but  by  the  tender  treatment  of  her  humorous 
aspects  she  becomes  infinitely  amusing,  and  almost 
succeeds  in  putting  Pecksniff  in  the  shade. 


PHIZ  THE  ILLUSTRATOR  271 

But  between  them  they  share  the  honours  of  the 
latter  part  of  the  book.  It  is  quite  incomprehensible 
how  Dickens,  with  two  such  first-class  performers 
on  the  stage,  should  have  wasted  time  on  the  murder 
by  Jonas.  What  time  have  we  for  trivial  crime, 
when  we  might  have  had  more  imperishable  remarks 
on  the  last  moments  of  Gamp  and  the  ultimate 
fate  of  his  wooden  leg,  which  in  the  nature  of  things 
could  not  have  been  dissected  ? 

The  illustrator  has  also  dealt  lightly  with  her. 
She  is  certainly  no  beauty,  and  if  she  looks  a  little 
bunchy,  she  is  nevertheless  clean  and  tidy,  and  has 
an  air  of  thinking  herself  welcome.  She  has  an  eye 
to  the  main  chance,  and  was  ready  to  welcome  the 
newly  married  bride  with  her  professional  card, 
a  smile  and  a  leer,  which  though  a  little  bit  vulgar 
has  no  harm  in  it,  and  merely  implies  that  she, 
being  a  person  of  great  skill  and  remarkable  pene- 
tration, is  in  possession  of  a  little  secret  as  yet 
unknown  to  the  outer  world.  She  has  the  aspect 
rather  of  a  cheerful  humorist  who,  having  no  sign 
of  being  a  teetotaler,  is  not  a  drunkard.  In  the  etch- 
ing representing  her  entertaining  Mrs.  Prig  to  tea 
she  is  represented  as  a  social  and  hospitable  person, 
as  no  doubt  she  was  on  occasions.  The  two  figures, 
in  themselves  admirably  drawn  and  full  of  indivi- 
dual character,  are  as  well  composed  with  the  back- 


272  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

ground  and  accessories  of  Mrs.  Gamp's  furniture,  as 
if  they  were  portraits  of  two  great  ladies  in  a  palace. 
The  women  themselves  and  their  surroundings 
are  individually  mean,  but  they  are  managed  with 
the  same  artistic  skill  that  would  have  served  for  a 
big  picture.  When  a  close  examination  is  made 
of  details  the  effect  is  very  droll  and  laughable, 
and  may  be  accounted  as  a  splendid  example  of  the 
highest  kind  of  burlesque. 

The  illustrations  throughout  the  book  reach  a 
high  order  of  excellence,  but  a  special  word  of 
commendation  should  be  reserved  for  the  charming 
frontispiece,  representing  Tom  Pinch  playing  the 
organ  and  surrounded  by  a  sort  of  dream  of  persons 
and  incidents  in  the  book.  The  figures  are  small 
but  perfectly  defined,  and  in  number  considerably 
over  seventy  ;  they  are  so  grouped  as  to  form  an 
agreeable  decorative  pattern. 

"  DOMBEY  " 

Though  the  next  book,  Dombey,  has  already  been 
referred  to,  it  is  necessary  to  give  some  description 
of  its  character  in  connection  with  the  illustrations 
and  Browne's  development.  The  book  as  a  whole 
is  dismal  and  is  not  a  popular  favourite,  yet  it  has 
afforded  opportunities  for  illustrations  in  abundance. 
The    remarkable    advance    shown    by  Browne    in 


V. 


/    /  / 

/ 


P' 


..■^ 


LITTL1-:    I'AL'L. 

Extra  ilhistration  to  ''  J)(»iil'cy"~iiot  actually  itsi'd. 


PHIZ   THE    ILLUSTRATOR  273 

Chuzzlewit  might  have  been  considered  a  definite 
stage  in  which  he  had  shown  his  utmost  capacity, 
but  he  was  by  no  means  as  yet  stationary. 

Dickens'  original  design  was  excellent  and  am- 
bitious, being  nothing  less  than  to  draw  a  picture  of 
a  man  inordinately  proud  and  vain  of  his  position 
abased  and  humbled  by  an  unkind  fate.  When 
little  Paul  is  born  Dombey  is  greatly  rejoiced,  be- 
cause in  due  time  there  will  be  a  son  in  the  firm,  as 
there  has  been  for  three  generations.  That  Mrs. 
Dombey  dies  is  a  matter  of  little  moment.  Dombey 
concentrates  his  whole  mind  on  the  upbringing  of 
his  son ;  because  he  is  a  delicate  child,  he  is  placed 
at  Brighton  with  Mrs.  Pipchin  ;  and  as  he  is  backward, 
he  is  put  in  the  hands  of  Dr.  Blimber  in  order  to  fit 
him  for  his  right  position.  As  we  have  said,  the 
book  as  a  whole  is  dismal,  it  is  abruptly  divided 
into  two  parts  by  the  death  of  little  Paul,  which, 
according  to  the  original  intention,  was  to  have 
formed  the  first  great  blow  to  Mr.  Dombey 's  over- 
weening pride.  But  unfortunately  all  our  interest 
has  been  centred  on  the  old-fashioned  little  boy, 
and  Mr.  Dombey  and  his  pride  could  only  have  at- 
tracted our  attention  by  a  psychological  portraiture 
which  was  quite  outside  the  Dickens  range.  We 
read  a  good  deal  about  Mr.  Dombey's  pride,  but  we 

only  get  evidence  that  he  is  stiff  and  unpleasant ; 

S 


274  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

he  seems  to  be  rather  callous  than  suffering.  Fail- 
ing the  central  figure,  the  story  is  eked  out  with  a 
number  of  oddities,  who,  however,  seem  to  move 
uneasily  in  an  uncongenial  atmosphere.  We  have 
the  Major,  a  curry-eating,  wine-bibbing,  brag- 
ging returned  Indian  and  his  native  manservant ; 
Captain  Cuttle  with  his  hook  and  his  innocence 
of  the  ways  of  dry  land,  not  to  mention  his  friend 
Bunsby,  or  his  landlady,  Mrs.  MacStinger,  one  of 
Dickens'  notable  and  terrifying  women,  or  Sol  Gills, 
a  muddle-headed  old  seller  of  nautical  instruments. 
All  these  are  definite  characters,  who  lend  themselves 
for  illustration. 

Domhey  has  no  great  central  figure  overpowering 
all  the  other  characters,  but,  unlike  the  other  books, 
there  are  an  unusual  number  of  female  characters  in 
it,  which  would  not  have  suited  most  caricaturists, 
but  were  particularly  suitable  for  Browne.  As  usual 
we  have  some  ladies  who  lend  themselves  to  carica- 
ture, notably  Mrs.  Chick,  Miss  Tox,  and  afterwards 
Mrs.  Skewton.  But  Mrs.  Toodles  alias  Richards, 
Miss  Nipper,  Florence  herself  as  she  grows  up, 
Alice,  and  the  second  Mrs.  Dombey,  are  all  beautiful 
in  different  styles,  and  require  to  be  represented 
by  a  draughtsman  who  could  afford  to  sacrifice  a 
good  deal  for  the  sake  of  grace. 

In  the  former  books  we  remember  some  grotesque 


llJ^^^'-al^'^***^  -^ 


ALICK. 

Rfduccd our  oj  a  seriis  of  i:\/>n  illusliations  to  "  PoDi/uy," 
puhtishfti  />y  llahlot  linnvitt-  and  Rohcrt  J  'oiiHj^ 


PHIZ   THE    ILLUSTRATOR  275 

figures  in  prominent  scenes  which  colour  our  recol- 
lections, but  here  the  pictures  which  remain  most 
firmly  impressed  on  the  memory  are  those  imbued 
with  a  strong  sense  of  beauty  and  owing  nothing 
to  the  comic  element.  Especially  we  remember 
the  meeting  of  Florence  and  Edith  on  the  staircase, 
and  that  of  Mrs.  Dombey  denouncing  Carker.  Here 
the  woman  is  not  in  a  position  to  show  to  the  greatest 
advantage  ;  she  has  been  insulted,  she  is  in  a  towering 
passion,  full  of  contempt  and  loathing  for  her  com- 
panion, and  bitter  with  the  bitterness  of  a  proud 
woman  who  has  been  disrespectfully  treated.  Ener- 
getic action  and  bad  feeling  assert  ill  with  beauty, 
but  here  they  go  together  to  make  the  most  impres- 
sive picture. 

The  villain,  Carker,  though  he  is  a  very  active 
schemer,  is  quite  uninteresting  in  the  letterpress  and 
the  etchings.  A  number  of  minor  characters  out 
of  the  inexhaustible  Dickens'  miscellany  serve  to 
fill  up  odd  corners,  and  bustle  on  the  stage  in  the 
final  tableau. 

Although  Browne's  appreciation  of  the  book  was 
evidently  lessened  by  the  absence  of  any  striking 
central  figure  suitable  for  his  purpose,  he  shows 
every  sign  of  enjoyment  by  the  general  excellence 
and  completeness  of  the  drawings ;  in  addition  to 
those  appearing  in  the  monthly  numbers,  he  pro- 


276  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

duced  a  number  of  extra  single  portraits,  which 
were  engraved  by  Robert  Young.  These  all  show 
a  great  sense  of  beauty,  but  none  quite  equal  to 
the  etching  of  Mrs.  Dombey,  already  described. 

"  David  Copperfield  " 

We  now  come  to  David  Copperfield,  the  most 
popular  of  all  the  books,  not  only  on  account  of  its 
own  merits,  which  are  great,  but  because  it  is  sup- 
posed to  be  autobiographical,  though  it  actually  is  so 
only  to  a  small  extent.  Indeed,  a  parallelism  can  only 
be  drawn  in  one  circumstance  common  to  the  two 
lives.  Dickens  in  his  boyhood  was  for  a  time 
actually  employed  in  a  blacking  warehouse  pasting 
labels  on  bottles,  and  David  is  described  as  beginning 
life  in  the  same  kind  of  occupation.  Dickens  con- 
fessedly felt  the  degradation  acutely,  so  profoundly  in- 
deed that  years  afterwards  he  dare  not  pass  the  spot 
on  the  same  side  of  the  road  ;  and  David  felt  the 
misery  of  his  position,  and  suffered  acutely,  with  an 
inexpressible  agony  of  soul  from  the  thought  of  the 
hopelessness  of  his  future  life,  and  his  detestation 
of  his  present  associates.  Otherwise  there  was  little 
resemblance  between  the  real  and  the  counterfeit. 
As  regards  all  other  incidents  the  two  lives  diverge, 
though  it  is  not  improbable  that  Dickens  derived 
help  from  the  recollection  of  his  own   experiences 


PHIZ   THE    ILLUSTP^TOR  277 

in  describing  David's  upgrowing,  as  we  know  he 
did  in  the  story  of  Httle  Paul  Dombey.  The  auto- 
biographical theory  is  strengthened  by  the  avowal 
that  Micawber's  cheery  optimism  was  modelled  from 
traits  in  the  character  of  Dickens'  own  father. 

David  was  born  and  brought  up  in  the  country. 
At  the  beginning  of  the  book  his  father  is  dead,  and 
the  young  widow  is  living  with  her  little  son  and  Clara 
Peggotty  at  the  Rookery,  Blunderstone,  Suffolk.  All 
was  going  well,  when  Mr.  Murdstone,  a  bold  bad  man 
with  black  whiskers,  fell  in  love  with  the  widow. 
Not  only  did  he  hang  up  his  hat  in  her  hall,  but 
imported  his  sister,  a  hard  dour  woman.  David  is 
taken  out  of  the  way,  and  stays  with  Mr.  Peggotty, 
Ham,  little  Emily,  and  Mrs.  Gummidge.  Mr. 
Peggotty  lives  in  a  house  made  out  of  a  boat.  Some 
little  controversy  has  taken  place  whether  the  boat 
was  propped  up  on  its  keel  or  turned  right  over.  As 
it  is  represented  in  the  latter  position,  and  as  Dickens 
was  exceedingly  particular  at  this  time  about  the 
facts  of  his  illustrations  being  correct,  we  may  take 
it  for  granted  it  was  so.  I  myself  have  seen  on 
the  south  coast  and  other  places  houses  contrived 
from  boats  in  both  ways,  and  smaller  kinds  of  smacks 
sawn  in  half  and  set  up  on  end  as  storerooms  for 
nets  and  tackle. 

We  hear  a  good  deal  about  the  doings  of  these 


278  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

simple  people,  and  make  the  acquaintance  of  one 
of  the  immortals,  Mr.  Barkis,  the  Blunderstone 
carrier,  all  described  delightfully  in  Dickens'  fully 
developed  style. 

This  happy  period  ends,  and  is  followed  by  a 
picture  of  a  child  uncomprehended  and  badly 
treated.  His  severe  and  narrow-minded  stepfather  ^ 
endeavours  to  flog  virtue  into  him,  and  in  a  tussle 
David  bites  him.  In  reprisal  he  is  sent  off  to  a  school 
in  London  kept  by  one  Creakle,  who  is  aided  and 
abetted  in  his  cruelties  and  floggings  by  a  wooden- 
legged  myrmidon.  To  add  to  the  child's  misery,  he 
is  made  to  wear  a  placard  inscribed  "  Take  care  of 
him,  he  bites."  Here  David  meets  with  his  evil  genius, 
Steerforth,  a  flashy,  extravagant  youth,  who  lords  it 
over  the  whole  establishment.  After  a  short  pre- 
tence of  education  he  is  sent  to  take  up  employ- 
ment in  the  bottle  warehouse.  As  it  is  necessary 
for  him  to  have  a  lodging,  a  person  is  found  who  is 
willing  to  take  him  for  a  consideration.  This  gentle- 
man is  the  real  hero  of  the  book,  one  of  the  greatest 
of  Dickens'  characters,  and  is  known  all  over  the 
civilised  world  as  Mr.  Micawber.  He  is  a  genuine 
grotesque,  very  theatrical,  yet  very  human.     In  real 

^  Dickens  speaks  of  Murdstone  as  David's  "  father-in-law,"  thus  fall- 
ing into  the  same  error  as  he  did  in  describing  Mrs.  Tony  Weller's 
relationship  to  Sam. 


PHIZ   THE   ILLUSTRATOR  279 

life  we  suspect  Mr.  Micawber  would  have  disappeared 
into  the  debtors'  prison  at  an  early  date  and  re- 
mained there,  but  in  the  novel  David  cannot  go 
far  without  his  friend  turning  up,  from  which  we 
may  gather,  in  spite  of  the  unfavourable  view  taken 
by  Mrs.  Micawber  of  Mr.  Micawber's  family,  they 
did  come  forward  better  than  we  were  given  to 
understand. 

Overcome  by  the  miserable  sense  of  his  degrada- 
tion, David  makes  up  his  mind  to  run  away  and  go 
down  to  Dover  to  see  and  appeal  to  his  aunt.  Miss 
Trot  wood,  on  the  capital  of  a  half  sovereign  bor- 
rowed from  Peggotty.  He  is  robbed  at  the  start, 
and  had  to  travel  without  it.  After  a  toilsome  walk, 
wonderfully  related,  he  finds  his  relation,  who  is 
one  of  the  best  described  characters  in  any  of  the 
books.  She  is  brusque  and  abrupt  and  very  auto- 
cratic, but  very  tender-hearted.  She  holds  in  de- 
testation mankind  in  general,  and  donkeys  who 
trespass  on  her  green  in  particular.  She  has  living 
with  her  "  Mr.  Dick,"  a  harmless  lunatic,  who  is 
perpetually  endeavouring,  without  success,  to  com- 
plete a  memorial  without  mentioning  King  Charles 
the  First's  head. 

David  is  adopted  by  his  aunt  and  put  to  school 
with  Dr.  Strong  at  Canterbury,  where  he  becomes 
acquainted  with  his  aunt's  lawyer,  Mr.  Wickfield, 


28o  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

his  daughter  Agnes,  and  his  clerk,  Uriah  Heap, 
who  wriggles  his  way  up  in  life  by  professing  to 
be  'umble.  Afterwards  David  goes  to  London,  and 
the  story  oscillates  between  London  and  Yarmouth. 
At  the  latter  place  things  go  badly.  Emily  is  seduced 
by  Steerforth,  and  she  flees  from  her  home  to 
escape  ignominy.  Her  uncle,  who  loves  her  deeply, 
sets  forth  in  search  of  her. 

David  is  married  to  Dora  Spenlow,  a  childish 
little  butterfly  of  a  woman,  who  dies.  David  having 
to  go  to  Yarmouth  encounters  a  violent  storm,  which 
is  magnificently  described.  Steerforth  is  wrecked 
close  by  the  home  he  had  wronged,  and  Ham  loses 
his  life  in  an  attempt  at  rescue.  The  book  ends  by 
Mr.  Micawber  discovering  a  series  of  crimes  com- 
mitted by  Uriah  Heap,  and  denouncing  him.  In 
the  ending,  as  usual,  everybody  is  made  more  or 
less  happy. 

Early  on  in  the  book  is  one  of  those  composi- 
tions of  figures  and  architecture  which  were  always 
characteristic  of  Browne's  style,  but  now  boldly 
and  openly  treated.  The  scene  is  in  the  interior 
of  the  parish  church.  The  walls  are  crowded  with 
monuments  and  memorial  tablets,  mingling  the  dead 
with  the  living.  Among  the  congregation  we  easily 
distinguish  Mr.  Murdstone,  who,  forgetting  the 
service,  is  staring  fixedly  at  the  widow.    The  archi- 


PHIZ   THE   ILLUSTRATOR  281 

tecture  is  not  strictly  according  to  the  rules  of  any 
style  in  particular,  but  an  excellent  impression  of  a 
general  view  of  Croydon  Church.  There  is  a  very 
pretty  picture  when  David  returns  home  and  finds 
his  mother  nursing  a  baby.  The  composition  is 
altogether  charming  and  human.  The  group  of 
the  mother  and  child  could  scarcely  be  excelled 
for  the  beauty  of  a  pose  which  is  quite  natural  and 
effectively  harmonised  with  the  lines  of  the  back- 
ground. This  is  a  favourite  subject  with  Browne. 
He  drew  it  many  hundreds  of  times  in  oils,  water- 
colours,  chalk,  pencil,  so  that  it  was  ready  to  be  used 
as  an  illustration.  There  is  no  special  description 
of  it  in  the  text. 

Two  illustrations  connected  with  David's  early 
life  are  noteworthy :  one,  where  he  is  at  table 
with  the  voracious  waiter,  who  tricks  him  out  of  his 
meal  by  subterfuges  ;  the  other,  where  he  gives  his 
"  magnificent  order  "  at  the  public  house.  He  is 
standing,  a  rather  forlorn,  but  gentlemanly  little 
figure,  in  a  little  white  hat  with  a  black  hatband, 
at  the  bar  of  the  public  house,  from  which  all  com- 
monness and  meanness  has  been  omitted  and  trans- 
formed to  a  certain  grandeur  and  dignity.  Two 
enormous  and  princely  puncheons  and  other  splendid 
vessels  containing  liquor  are  scattered  about.  The 
landlord   and   landlady   present   the   appearance   of 


282  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

the  greatest  comfort  and  respectability.  All  this  is 
as  far  from  realism  as  it  can  be,  but  few  can  help 
feeling  that  it  is  more  interesting  and  wholesome 
than  an  exact  representation  of  a  London  public 
house.  Throughout  ugliness  is  kept  in  the  back- 
ground, and  things  are  made  perhaps  a  little  better 
than  they  are.  In  the  crowded  schoolroom  at 
Creakle's,  for  instance,  the  boys  appear  high- 
spirited  and  well  dressed,  and  not  at  all  de- 
pressed by  Mr.  Creakle  and  his  wooden-legged 
myrmidon. 

In  the  picture  where  Mr.  Mell  visits  his  toothless 
old  mother  and  plays  the  flute  there  is  no  sign  of 
squalor,  and  a  pleasant  composition  is  made  out  of 
most  unpromising  material. 

At  the  end  of  his  toilsome  journey  to  Dover 
David  presents  himself  to  his  aunt,  who  is  en- 
gaged in  gardening  ;  and  when  he  tells  her  who 
he  is,  she  is  so  astonished,  that  she  exclaims 
"  Good  God  !  "  and  forthwith  sits  down  upon 
the  path.  This  in  a  written  description  is  ex- 
pressive of  amazement.  But  the  picture  of  a 
respectable  spinster  lady  sitting  on  a  gravel  path 
conveys  no  idea  of  astonishment  and  pictorially 
is  ineffective,  and  Browne  feeling  this,  made  an 
alternative  design  of  her  standing  bolt  upright 
and   looking   thoroughly   taken   aback.      This   was 


PHIZ   THE   ILLUSTRATOR  283 

the  one  actually  etched,  and  is  one  of  the  best  in 
the  book/ 

Afterwards,  in  another  drawing,  David  is  shown 
bundled  up  in  a  suit  of  clothes  belonging  to  Mr. 
Dick,  at  the  time  when  the  Murdstones  come  down 
to  make  terms,  and  is  a  sufficiently  comical  little 
figure. 

Throughout  the  book  there  is  not  the  slightest 
attempt  to  force  the  picturesque  element  into  the 
front,  or  to  step  beyond  the  modesty  of  ordinary 
life.  Even  Mr.  Micawber,  extravagant  as  he  is,  is 
made  to  harmonise  with  his  surroundings,  and  his 
variations  of  costume  from  the  prevailing  fashion 
does  not  seem  greater  than  would  be  permis- 
sible in  a  man  of  eccentric  taste  and  genius.  It  is 
only  fair  to  him  to  remark  that  there  was  enor- 
mously greater  latitude  in  male  costume  both  as 
regards  cut  and  colour  than  there  is  at  the 
present  day.  Dickens  was  delighted  with  this  por- 
trait. He  writes  :  "  Browne  has  done  a  capital 
Micawber." 

The  figure  is  indeed  a  triumph.  He  embodies 
the  author's  idea.  He  is  grotesque  and  yet  human, 
and  though  an  amusing  caricature,  is  quite  credible 

1  Excellent  reproductions  of  the  alternative  designs  in  pencil,  together 
with  the  etching  actually  published,  which  is  considerably  superior  to  both, 
are  given  by  Mr.  D.  C  Thompson  in  his  Life  of  Hablot  K.  Browne. 


284  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

as  the  real  author  of  his  tremendous  epistles  and 
sententious  maxims. 

The  drawing  where  Miss  Mowcher  is  standing  on 
a  table  doctoring  Steerforth's  hair  and  chattering  to 
David  might  very  probably  be  classed  a  caricature, 
but  as  I  knew  the  lady,  I  am  in  a  position  to  state 
that  nothing  is  exaggerated,  and  the  drawing  taken 
from  the  description  gives  a  very  good  general  im- 
pression of  her  as  she  lived,  though,  as  I  have  said, 
I  do  not  think  my  father  ever  saw  her  in  the  flesh. 

The  illustrations  of  the  happenings  of  common 
life,  such  as  the  first  introduction  to  Dora,  and  the 
interview  with  the  Misses  Spenlow,  who  certainly 
resemble  little  birds,  Littimer  and  Uriah  Heap  in 
prison,  all  fulfil  their  purpose  of  telling  the  story. 
The  frontispiece  representing  Miss  Betsy  Trotwood 
peeping  in  at  the  window  of  the  Rookery,  and  the 
vignette  title-page  representing  little  Emily  sitting  on 
the  beach  near  Peggotty's  boat-house,  are  delightful 
examples  of  Browne's  skill  and  fancy  in  delineating 
landscape  in  relation  to  figures. 

"  Bleak  House  " 

The  next  book.  Bleak  House,  differs  from  its  pre- 
decessors in  being  something  of  a  detective  story, 
and  having  as  central  figures,  round  whom  the  in- 
terest revolves,  people  of  good  social  position. 


PHIZ   THE   ILLUSTRATOR  285 

From  the  beginning  we  are  plunged  into  a  legal 
atmosphere,  or  let  us  say  a  legal  fog  enveloping  a 
Chancery  suit,  with  its  interminable  delays,  its  de- 
vouring expenses,  and  its  attendant  crowd  of  legal 
persons,  clients  and  witnesses  ;  there  is  a  continual 
rummage  among  every  variety  of  documents,  wills, 
judgments,  affidavits  and  parchments  of  all  sorts 
and  descriptions,  so  that  there  is  always  the  chance 
of  some  secret  being  brought  unexpectedly  to  light. 
And  a  secret  there  is,  which  involves  a  person  appar- 
ently unconnected  with  the  suit.  Sir  Leicester  Ded- 
lock,  Bart.,  a  great  landowner  and  Dickens'  most 
successful  portrait  of  a  gentleman,  of  no  particular 
brains,  prejudiced,  courteous,  and  soaked  in  the 
honourable  traditions  of  his  caste.  He  has  married 
a  lady,  beautiful,  haughty,  disdainful,  and  bored 
with  the  monotony  of  fashionable  life. 

The  family  solicitor,  Mr.  Tulkinghorn,  and  a  ridi- 
culous little  lawyer's  clerk  named  Guppy,  discover 
that  Lady  Dedlock  before  her  marriage  to  Sir 
Leicester  Dedlock  had  a  lover.  Captain  Hawdon, 
by  whom  she  had  a  child,  Esther  Summerson,  who 
is  actually  living  as  a  member  of  the  family  of  their 
neighbour,  Mr.  Jarndyce,  one  of  the  chief  persons 
in  the  great  suit.  It  is  further  discovered  that 
Hawdon  is  identical  with  a  law  copyist,  who  has 
been   eking   out    a  miserable   existence   by   writing 


286  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

documents  for  Mr.  Snagsby,  the  law  stationer. 
Hawdon  dies  by  an  overdose  of  opium.  Mr.  Tulk- 
inghorn  having  discovered  the  secret  of  Hawdon 's 
life  uses  his  knowledge  for  the  purpose  of  terrorising 
Lady  Dedlock.  Among  witnesses  called  at  the  in- 
quest— described  in  Dickens'  usual  cheerful  manner 
in  dealing  with  the  backstreet  incidents — is  a  miserable 
crossing-sweeper  named  Jo,  to  whom  the  deceased 
man  had  rendered  occasional  acts  of  kindness .  About 
this  time  Lady  Dedlock  confesses  to  Esther  Summer- 
son  that  they  are  related  as  mother  and  daughter, 
and  one  evening,  disguised  in  her  servant's  clothes 
(Sir  Leicester  being  laid  up  with  the  gout),  she 
employs  Jo  to  guide  her  to  places  connected  with 
Hawdon 's  miserable  life,  and  to  point  out  his  grave. 
The  secret  might  have  been  indefinitely  preserved 
from  other  people  if  Mr.  Tulkinghorn  had  not  thought 
proper  to  put  the  screw  on.  Lady  Dedlock  flies  her 
home,  Chesney  Wold,  and  after  a  search  is  found 
dead  and  cold  at  the  gateway  of  the  burial-ground. 

Shortly  before  this  Mr.  Tulkinghorn  was  found 
shot  in  his  own  room,  and  the  remainder  of  the  story 
is  chiefly  occupied  with  the  doings  of  Mr.  Bucket, 
the  detective  who  finally  arrests  Hortense,  Lady 
Dedlock 's  French  maid,  for  the  murder. 

Besides  Skimpole  and  Mr.  Guppy  already  men- 
tioned, there  is   a  whole    crowd   of   miscellaneous 


PHIZ   THE   ILLUSTRATOR  287 

characters  good  enough  to  have  made  the  fortune 
of  any  other  writer,  who  are  only  part  of  that  inex- 
haustible stock  Dickens  always  had  on  hand.  Apart 
from  those  who  conduct  themselves  as  ordinary 
commonplace  mortals,  we  have  Miss  Flite,  a  little 
mad  woman  who  frequents  the  court,  and  a  dirty 
old  lunatic  Krook,  who  keeps  a  marine  store,  and 
calls  himself  Lord  Chancellor.  Mr.  Boythorn,  a  man 
outwardly  ferocious,  but  inwardly  kind-hearted, 
supposed  to  have  been  modelled  on  Walter  Savage 
Landor  (and  fortunately  without  the  addition  of 
disagreeable  traits).  Two  excellent  portraits  of 
philanthropic  ladies  :  Mrs.  Jellyby,  occupied  with 
the  affairs  of  Borrioboola  Gha,  and  Mrs.  Pardiggle, 
who  made  house  to  house  visitation  amongst  the 
poor,  and  bullied  them  into  cleanliness  and  godli- 
ness. Mr.  Turveydrop,  a  survival  of  the  dandies  of 
the  time  of  George  IV ;  his  son  Prince,  a  dancing- 
master,  whose  academy  is  most  amusingly  described. 
Mr.  Bagnet,  a  retired  trooper,  with  his  wife,  literally 
his  better  half,  and  children,  Quebec  and  Malta  ; 
and  the  keeper  of  a  shooting-gallery,  also  a  retired 
trooper,  Mr.  George,  who  is  mistakenly  arrested 
by  Mr.  Bucket  for  the  murder.  Nor  must  we  omit 
Mrs.  Snagsby,  a  jealous  woman  who  bullies  her 
husband,  and  sits  under  Mr.  Chadband,  a  preaching 
old   humbug,   perfectly   distinct   from   his   popular 


288  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

predecessor  Stiggins.  Finally  there  is  a  full-length 
portrait  of  the  poor  castaway  "Jo,"  his  miserable 
life  and  condition.  His  death  has  in  it  a  true 
pathos,  a  little  weakened  by  Dickens  insisting  upon 
drawing  the  attention  of  "  My  Lords  and  Gentle- 
men "  to  it. 

As  the  greater  part  of  the  book  consists  of  conversa- 
tions, all  letting  the  cat  out  of  the  bag  by  very  slow 
degrees,  there  was  an  absence  of  incidents  which 
would  serve  for  illustration,  or  be  helped  by  one. 
In  the  actual  matter  of  composition  and  execution 
Browne  was  never  better.  The  drawings  of  the  fe- 
male figures  are  especially  graceful,  two  in  particular. 
One  representing  Esther  talking  to  Miss  Jellyby, 
Peepy  asleep  in  the  mean  bed,  luggage  and  band- 
boxes, the  neglected  candles,  all  help  in  the  com- 
position. The  other  called  "  Nurse  and  Patient," 
equally  beautiful.  In  the  old  familiar  style  are  pic- 
tures which  directly  illustrate  the  story,  such  as  the 
old  marine  store-dealer  Krook,  chalking  up  the  name 
Jarndyce  letter  by  letter.  Another  where  Jo  is 
pointing  out  to  Lady  Dedlock  through  the  bars  of 
the  gateway  the  position  of  Hawdon's  grave  in  the 
noisome  little  burial-place,  the  squalor  and  obscenity 
of  the  place  being  emphasized  by  a  bestial  shadow 
of  a  man  drinking  being  thrown  on  the  blind  of  a 
low  down  window. 


PHIZ    THE    ILLUSTRATOR  289 

The  picture  of  Mr.  Chadband  improving  a  tough 
subject  makes  the  old  humbug  a  very  distinct  person- 
ahty,  and  different  from  the  arch-hypocrite  fore- 
runner Pecksniff,  whom  he  might  be  supposed  to 
resemble.  Other  illustrations  there  are  of  the  usual 
character,  including  the  one  of  Skimpole  and  Coav- 
inses,  which  has  already  been  dealt  with.  But 
about  halfway  through  the  book — to  be  precise, 
on  the  360th  page — the  reader  cannot  fail  to  be 
struck  by  an  illustration  which  possesses  two  char- 
acteristics not  hitherto  seen.  First,  it  has  been 
executed  in  tint,  and  the  outline,  instead  of 
playing  a  great  part,  is  barely  visible  ;  and  secondly, 
it  consists  of  architecture  and  landscape,  with  an 
entire  absence  of  the  human  figure — and  thereby 
hangs  a  tale. 

If  the  reader  will  compare  an  etching  in  Martin 
Chuzzlewit — for  example,  the  celebrated  scene  where 
"  Mrs.  Gamp  propoges  a  toast,"  or  any  other  group 
of  figures  in  an  interior — with  the  one  in  Bleak  House 
of  ''  Nurse  and  Patient,"  or  other  similar  composi- 
tion, and  look  over  the  etchings  bit  by  bit,  he  will 
be  struck  that  in  many  places  in  the  latter  volume 
the  lines  are  not  clear  and  precise,  and  in  others 
they  have  unexpectedly  agglomerated  so  as  to  form 
blotches.     Comparing  the  drawings,  especially  in  the 

fine  etching  of  such  a  passage  as  the  objects  which 

T 


290  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

form  a  background  to  the  group  of  figures  which 
are  generally  treated  by  Browne  by  very  delicate 
lines.  In  the  Chuzzlewit  drawings  we  shall  notice 
that  the  figures  are  vividly  relieved  from  the  back- 
ground, and  the  whole  drawing  errs,  if  in  anything, 
by  being  too  sharp,  but  the  general  effect  in  the 
Bleak  House  series  is  rather  that  of  woolliness  and 
flatness,  and  a  uniformity  of  greyness,  as  if  the  back- 
grounds had  been  too  strongly  bitten  in  :,  though 
that  is  not  the  fault.  If  closely  examined,  the  lines 
will  be  seen  to  be  a  little  thicker  than  usual, 
and  with  a  dull  edge,  as  if  they  were  printed  on 
blotting-paper. 

Browne  was  generally  incurious  about  the  result 
of  his  work,  and  the  completed  numbers  when  for- 
warded often  remained  unopened  for  some  days. 
But  he  discovered  these  facts,  and  he  recognised 
the  engraver's  unforgivable  sin — the  rotten  line.  In 
every  man,  even  the  most  careless,  there  remains 
some  concealed  point  of  pride  which  brooks  no 
interference.  There  is  generally  something  in  every 
profession  which  stands  for  a  point  of  honour,  and 
is  often  entirely  incomprehensible  to  outsiders. 
How  he  discovered  the  cause  I  do  not  know,  but 
he  was  evidently  much  disturbed  that  he  might  be 
supposed  to  be  concerned  in  the  nefarious  crime. 
His    drawing    might    be    attacked,    he    might    be 


PHIZ   THE    ILLUSTRATOR  291 

accused  of  caricature,  his  perspective  might  be 
wrong,  his  people  might  be  ugly  —  but  a  rotten 
line,  never  ! 

The  reason  for  these  defective  impressions  was 
that,  in  order  to  deal  rapidly  with  a  large  issue,  the 
plates  had  been  printed  by  means  of  some  kind  of 
lithographic  process,  which  enabled  half  a  dozen 
to  be  done  at  the  same  time.  Now  though  such 
processes  may  be,  by  means  of  skill  and  attention, 
trusted  to  produce  clean  lines,  so  long  as  they  are  iso- 
lated, it  cannot  be  trusted  to  reproduce  luminously 
fine  lines  closely  in  juxtaposition.  It  was  very  char- 
acteristic of  the  man  that  he  neither  whined  nor 
stormed,  but  as  a  sort  of  joke  sent  up  a  plate  wholly 
composed  of  fine  parallel  lines  which  were  liable 
to  blotch  if  transferred  to  stone,  and  therefore  must 
be  printed  in  a  proper  copperplate  press.  This  was 
the  Ghosts'  Walk.  So  far  from  its  being  regarded 
as  a  joke  or  a  reproof,  it  was  received  with  acclama- 
tion, and  considered  by  the  publishers  and  the  public 
as  a  novelty  of  a  very  attractive  nature.  The  drawing 
in  question  taken  on  its  own  merits  is  interesting 
and  impressive. 

The  accompanying  two  letters,  now  for  the  first 
time  printed,  fortunately  escaped  the  bonfire,  and 
relate  to  the  terminal  numbers  of  Bleak  House. 
One  is  an  ordinary  business  letter,  the  other  is  a 


292  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

specimen    of   Anglo-French,   and    characteristic   of 


the  writer  : 


"  Chateau  de  Moulineux,  Rue  Beaurepaire, 
Boulogne,  2^th  June  1853. 


"  My  dear  Browne, — First,  I  beg  to  report  myself, 
thank  God,  thoroughly  well  again. 

"  I  was  truly  sensible  of  your  last  note,  and  of  the 
right  goodwill  with  which  you  fell  to  work  on  the 
plates,  under  those  discouraging  circumstances. 

"  Secondly,  I  send  the  subjects  for  the  next  number. 
Will  you  let  me  see  the  sketches  here  by  post  ? 

"  Thirdly,  I  am  now  ready  with  all  four  subjects 
for  the  concluding  double  number,  and  will  post 
them  to  you  to-morrow  or  next  day  !!!!!! 

"  Fourthly,  I  wish  you  would  so  contrive  your 
arrangements,  if  so  disposed,  as  to  come  and  pay 
us  a  visit  here.  I  don't  know  whether  you  know 
Boulogne  well  ;  but,  well  known,  it  is  a  very  capital 
place,  with  quite  as  much  that  is  quaint  and  pic- 
turesque among  the  fishing  people  and  their  quarter 
of  the  town  as  is  to  be  found  (if  you  will  believe 
me  in  a  whisper)  at  Naples. 

''  We  purpose  remaining  here  until  the  middle  of 
October ;  have  a  queer  doll's  house  of  many  rooms, 
and  really  beautiful  gardens.  I  think  you  would 
like  it  and  be  amused,  and  would  find  much  worthy 
of  note,  and  afterwards  of  use,  in  these  parts. 


PHIZ   THE   ILLUSTRATOR  293 

"  Now  I  have  it  in  contemplation,  on  Monday,  22nd 
of  August,  to  do  the  best  French  dinner  that  can  be 
done  in  this  region,  to  celebrate  the  conclusion  of 
Bleak  House^  to  which  festival  Bradbury  and  Lemon 
stand  pledged  to  come  over.  Can  you  not,  on  such 
good  notice,  arrange  to  come  with  them,  and  to  remain 
after  them,  taking  for  a  good  week  or  fortnight  of 
fresh  air  and  change.  We  shall  be  truly  delighted 
to  receive  you. 

"  Consider,  O  Man  of  business,  and  at  your  leisure 
reply. 

*'  Address  as  above. — Ever  faithfully  yours, 

"  Charles  Dickens. 

"  Hablot  K.  Browne,  Esq." 

"Boulogne,  Mercreday, yi^z?-,^  6,  1853. 

'*  MoN  CHER  Browne, — If  I  express  myself  not 
altogether  in  the  perfect  English  of  your  country, 
pardon  me  for  tout  ce  que  je  fait.  J'ai  si  longtemps 
demeurre — on  the  Continent — que  j'ai  presqu'oublie 
my  native  tongue. 

**  My  French  il  me  parait  with  the  esquisses  seront 
— admirable  when  they  shall  be  finished  according 
to  your  so  wondrous  pouce  of  art. 

''  I  them  return — ci  enclos.  That  I  am  enchante 
— all  the  hope  you  give  me — de  vous  recevoir  chez 
moi  a  Boulogne  ! 


294  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

''  There  is  a  great  deal  of  wind  here,  almost  all 
the  days.  Madame  and  Mademoiselle  themselves 
remember  of  that  Englishman  Browne,  and  to  him 
send  a  thousand  friendships. 

"  Receive,  my  amiable  Browne,  the  assurance  of  my 
distinguished  consideration,  votre  tout  devoue, 

"  Dickens. 

"  A  Monsieur 

Monsieur  H.  K.  Browne." 

"Little  Dorrit" 

I  am  bound  to  confess  I  have  never  read  Little 
Dorrit  through.  I  have  made  one  or  two  attempts, 
have  started  at  different  places,  and  just  as  I  seemed 
to  be  getting  along  very  well,  something  has  hap- 
pened, either  an  interruption  from  the  outside,  or  a 
condition  of  somnolence,  similar  to  such  as  attacks 
audiences  at  lectures  or  sermons. 

The  first  chapter  is  an  excellent  bit  of  writing. 
Two  men,  Rigaud  (otherwise  Blandois),  a  murderer, 
and  John  Baptist,  a  cheerful  smuggler,  in  prison  at 
Marseilles,  make  a  good  opening ;  and  even  with 
Dickens'  inconsequence  it  is  a  little  disappointing 
to  lose  sight  of  these  people  till  the  eleventh  chapter, 
when  they  have  had  time  to  be  released  from  prison 
and  to  walk  from  Marseilles  to  Chalon-sur-Saone. 
These  two  foreigners  are  seen  afterwards  in  London, 


PHIZ    THE   ILLUSTRATOR  295 

where  they  add  considerably  to  the  confusion  of  the 
reader. 

The  story  of  Mr.  Dorrit,  whose  acquaintance  we 
make  as  a  prisoner  for  debt,  appears  to  be  revealed, 
but  is  not ;  afterwards  he  comes  into  an  immense 
fortune,  and  it  seems  evident  that  there  was  an  in- 
tention of  showing  that  a  weak  character  may  be 
equally  injured  by  good  fortune  or  by  bad. 

At  another  time  it  would  appear  that  the  move- 
ments of  Mr.  Pancks,  a  rent-collector,  who  in  the 
course  of  his  business  unravels  the  mystery  of  Mr. 
Dorrit 's  heritage,  is  likely  to  be  the  real  story,  but 
Mr.  Pancks  hands  over  the  money,  and  we  never 
know  what  has  happened. 

Then  our  attention  is  again  diverted  from  Mr. 
Dorrit  and  turned  toward  Mrs.  Clennam,  one  of 
Dickens'  most  disagreeable  old  women,  who  ap- 
pears to  be  possessed  of  a  secret  connected  with  her 
deceased  husband,  and  so  adds  to  the  mystery  of 
this  mysterious  book.  Her  son  Arthur  is  probably 
the  real  hero,  as  he  marries  Little  Dorrit  at  the  end, 
and  like  many  other  heroes  is  a  very  uninteresting 
person.  He  returns  from  abroad,  and  he  and  his 
mother  spar  at  one  another  through  interminable 
dialogues,  which  are  apparently  written  to  teach  us 
that  words  are  given  us  to  conceal  our  thoughts ; 
but   the    secret    is    not    revealed.     Our    old    friend 


296  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

Blandois  turns  up  with  the  modest  demand  of  a 
thousand  pounds  for  keeping  his  mouth  shut,  so  it 
must  really  be  rather  a  fine  secret  after  all. 

Every  now  and  then  we  come  upon  excellent 
little  bits  of  genuine  Dickens  writing,  then  we  find 
ourselves  plunged  anew  into  incomprehensible 
dialogue.  Nobody  seems  able  to  speak  their  mind 
clearly  except  Mr.  F.'s  aunt.  She  is  the  only  concise 
speaker  in  the  book,  and  a  genuine  Dickens  character. 

Things  are  brought  to  a  comfortable  ending  by 
the  house  suddenly  falling  down  and  killing  every- 
body who  is  not  wanted. 

The  illustrations  share  the  general  depression. 
If  we  had  not  known  the  four  great  books  they  might 
seem  good,  but  they  suffer  in  the  first  place  from 
a  want  of  some  distinguished  character  to  take  the 
lead.  There's  no  Pecksniff,  nor  Captain  Cuttle, 
nor  Micawber,  nor  even  a  Sir  Leicester  Dedlock, 
or  the  grandiose  architecture  of  Chesney  Wold. 
There  are  no  thrilling  adventures  ;  very  little  first- 
hand description  ;  there  is  nothing  central  that  can 
be  used  for  artistic  purposes,  but  Mr.  F.'s  aunt  is 
represented  as  a  resolute  and  pugnacious  little  figure, 
and  the  only  individuality  that  counts.  The  drawings 
have  an  air  of  being  very  sketchy — very  little  work 
is  put  in  them  ;  and  this  may  be  partly  accounted 
for  by  the  absence  of  any  tangible  person  or  pictorial 


PHIZ    THE    ILLUSTRATOR  297 

incident  essential  to  the  story.  People  standing 
about  talking  do  not  afford  much  scope,  and  the 
sketchy  appearance  is  due  to  large  white  spaces 
being  left  and  lines  not  being  put  close  together 
on  account  of  the  method  of  printing.  There  is 
a  strong  tendency  evidently  to  keep  an  open  line, 
that  one  may  not  blotch  its  neighbour. 

There  are  a  few  tinted  drawings,  of  which  three  are 
excellent,  one  the  interior  of  the  prison  at  Marseilles, 
another  the  old  house  with  Blandois  smoking  in  a 
top  window  shortly  before  the  catastrophe,  entitled 
"  Damocles."  The  third  is  "  Little  Dorrit's  Party  " 
— a  starlight  view  of  a  mean  street  in  the  neighbour- 
hood of  the  Marshalsea. 

"  A  Tale  of  Two  Cities  " 

This  book  has  already  been  sufficiently  described, 
and  a  few  words  need  only  be  added  in  regard 
to  the  illustrations,  which  show  a  considerable 
declension  in  power,  and  even  a  languid  attention. 
His  mind  was  not  aroused ;  probably  it  had  become 
somewhat  insensitive,  as  it  was  the  kind  of  work  that 
some  years  ago  would  have  delighted  him. 

He  had  not  been  in  France  for  many  years,  and 
evidently  made  no  attempt  to  refresh  his  early 
impressions.  At  this  time  he  was  living  at  Banstead, 
near  Epsom,   three  miles    from  a  railway  station. 


298  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

He  had  lost  his  interest  in  illustrating.  The  draw- 
ings have  evidently  been  hurriedly  sketched  in,  and 
are  left  in  a  very  unfinished  state  ;  and  though  there 
are  some  felicitous  passages,  they  do  not  aid  the 
descriptions  in  the  book,  as  the  illustrations  had 
hitherto  done. 

He  was  in  other  directions  doing  very  good  work. 
The  two  drawings  after  referred  to,  "  Death's  Revel  " 
and  "  Death's  Banquet,"  designed  somewhere  be- 
tween '61  and  '63,  two  years  or  so  after  A  Tale 
oj  Two  Cities^  show  one  side  of  his  artistic  nature 
in  full  force. 

We  have  taken  the  Dickens  books  as  milestones 
on  the  road  of  Browne's  development.  He  is  re- 
membered as  the  illustrator  of  Charles  Dickens, 
and  nobody  else  counts  for  much. 

In  the  eyes  of  his  contemporaries,  Dickens  did  not 
hold  the  pre-eminent  place  he  does  now.  Although 
he  was  considered  the  most  distinguished  of  the 
numerous  authors  for  whom  Browne  worked,  he 
was  only  one  among  the  many  who  have  since  died 
out,  and  are  scarcely  remembered  even  by  name. 
It  was  the  fashion  to  have  Phiz  as  illustrator  as  a 
sort  of  guarantee  of  excellence.  It  is  remarkable 
how  many  books  he  did  illustrate  by  etchings  on 
steel  ;  even  pamphlets  and  such-like  ephemeral 
matter  as  would  in  the  present  day  find  a  place  in 


PHIZ   THE   ILLUSTRATOR  299 

a  magazine  would  have  at  least  a  frontispiece  from 
his  hand.  If  we  take  a  Dickens  book  as  a  pattern, 
and  compare  it  with  a  number  of  other  books  of  the 
same  date,  we  shall  find  in  them  all,  plates  exactly 
corresponding  in  style.  The  Dickens  illustrations 
are  generally  the  best,  because  he  as  a  writer  excited 
a  greater  interest  and  provided  better  material. 

In  Browne's  early  stage  his  plates  show  signs 
of  immaturity  in  the  draughtsmanship.  Without 
exception,  they  present  the  appearance  of  spirited 
sketches  done  for  the  purpose  of  serving  as  memor- 
anda for  places  and  occurrences.  There  is  no  attempt 
made  towards  accuracy,  or  even  probability,  but 
they  exactly  hit  the  taste  of  a  contemporary  public 
who  enjoyed  farce,  bustle,  go,  confusion  and  catas- 
trophe, and  were  especially  amused  at  that  kind  of 
horse-play  which  the  police  in  our  more  decorous 
days  would  probably  suppress.  This  was  the  de- 
mand that  Phiz  supplied. 

Mr.  James  Grant,  who  wrote  some  excellent 
sketches  of  the  seamy  side  of  London  life,  contain- 
ing a  good  deal  of  interesting  and  solid  information 
about  begging-letter  impostors,  debtors'  prisons, 
courts  of  law,  lunatic  asylums,  and  so  forth,  thus 
speaks  in  his  preface  (dated  1838)  : 

"  With  regard  to  the  illustrations  by  '  Phiz  '  which 
embellish  this  volume,  the  author  can  speak  more 


300  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

unreservedly  than  he  could  do  of  the  letterpress. 
They  are  among  the  happiest  achievements  of  the 
genius  of  one  who,  yet  young  in  years,  is  unques- 
tionably in  this  particular  style  of  engraving  the 
first  artist  of  the  day." 

This  clearly  shows  that  there  shone  through  the 
imperfection  of  the  execution  qualities  which  were 
original  and  satisfying.  Browne  began  his  work 
in  the  spirit  of  a  schoolboy  who  draws  to  amuse 
his  friends.  No  matter  what  was  described,  he  made 
a  shift  to  express  it  pictorially.  When  he  began  he 
had  very  small  experience  of  life,  and  evidently  no 
knowledge  of  the  figure,  and  had  not  practised  draw- 
ing from  the  model.  He  relied  almost  entirely 
upon  his  imagination,  which  is  a  very  good  servant, 
but  a  bad  master  to  the  artist. 

A  distinction  must  be  made  for  practical  pur- 
poses, though  it  might  not  be  admitted  by  psycho- 
logists, between  imagination  and  memory.  By 
memory  we  understand  a  mental  act  by  which  an 
artist  recalls  an  object  in  such  a  manner  as  to  enable 
him  to  reproduce  it  as  exactly  as  possible.  In  this 
way  features  of  particular  persons,  shapes  of  furni- 
ture and  bits  of  architecture  may  be  drawn  more 
or  less  accurately  without  much  difference  in  the 
method  from  drawing  from  the  actual  thing,  except 
in  the  greater  length  of  time  that  has  elapsed  between 


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PHIZ   THE    ILLUSTRATOR  301 

the  observation  and  the  execution.  But  imagination 
is  something  different.  In  the  case  of  memory,  the 
drawing  is  made  from  a  recollection  of  a  visual  im- 
pression made  upon  the  eye  by  some  definite  object, 
and  then  conveyed  to  the  brain.  But  in  imagination 
by  a  voluntary  effort,  the  mind  is  capable  of  pro- 
ducing a  sensation  of  things  as  seen,  without  the 
use  of  the  eye.  Some  men  are  capable  of  calling 
up  scenes  without  consciousness  of  any  definite 
observation  having  been  made  by  the  eye.  They 
may  call  up  mental  pictures  of  magnificent  architec- 
ture, pageants  and  people  and  scenes  in  far-off 
countries  such  as  they  have  never  seen  except  by 
the  **  inward  eye."  These  dreams  are  sometimes 
fragmentary,  at  other  times  so  complete  as  to  be 
serviceable  for  artistic  purposes.  A  man  so  endowed 
does  not  strive  to  remember  what  he  saw  in  a 
certain  city  or  valley,  or  among  a  crowd  of  people 
in  a  place,  but  he  has  pictured  before  him  a  new 
world,  not  exactly  reproducing  any  one  particular 
object,  but  typifying  the  things  unconsciously  ob- 
served and  now  brought  into  service. 

Certain  men  have  the  power  of  exciting  visual 
sensation  in  the  brain  and  making  the  picture  seem 
as  clear  as  if  it  were  really  seen  by  the  eye.  In  other 
words  they  can,  whilst  wide-awake  and  by  a  volun- 
tary effort,  project  an  image  in  the  same  way  as  things 


302  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

are  seen  in  dreams.  Others,  and  the  great  majority, 
require  to  have  the  visual  sensation  started  primarily 
in  the  eye. 

It  is  certain  that  Browne  possessed  this  gift,  and 
even  abused  it.  He  certainly  saw  those  complicated 
designs  of  a  quasi  decorative  character,  such  as 
the  frontispieces  to  Domhey  and  Chuzzlewit^  and  the 
crowds  in  which  he  delighted  as  a  whole,  and  did  lot 
build  them  up  bit  by  bit.  He  sat  down  to  his  work 
without  any  preliminary  design  or  tentative  arrange- 
ment, made  no  measurements  or  trials,  and  drew 
straightforwardly  as  if  he  were  copying  something 
which  he  saw.  He  did  this  so  effectually  that  he  de- 
prived himself  of  the  aid  that  many  artists  find  in  sur- 
rounding themselves  by  objects,  models,  and  studies. 
These  only  served  to  distract  his  mind.  It  will  readily 
be  perceived  that  a  mental  process  of  this  kind  does 
not  tend  toward  realistic  accuracy,  but  to  the  pro- 
duction of  the  fantastic.  It  may  be  better  than  the 
actuality,  or  it  may  be  worse.  Whichever  it  is,  it 
is  set  down.  Browne's  architecture  and  furniture 
were  generally  better  than  the  real  thing,  but  in  deal- 
ing with  objects  which  had  not  impressed  his  mind, 
he  often  varied  curiously  from  the  reality.  Any- 
thing in  the  shape  of  a  boat  or  scientific  apparatus 
or  machinery  was  always  grotesquely  unlike  the 
real   thing.     They  probably  did  very  well  for  the 


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PHIZ    THE    ILLUSTRATOR  303 

picture,  but  they  offered  insoluble  difficulties  for 
the  professional  spectator. 

About  the  time  he  went  back  to  live  in  London 
etching  as  a  means  of  illustration  was  nearly  dead, 
but  he  found  himself  greatly  in  demand  for  his  sport- 
ing pictures.  He  contributed  a  number  of  drawings 
to  various  papers,  executed  in  sundry  new  processes 
which  irritated  him  exceedingly.  He  also  composed 
original  books  of  sporting,  hunting,  and  racing  bits, 
generally  of  about  a  dozen  plates  in  each.  One  set 
was  published  by  Chapman  &  Hall,  other  sets 
by  Fores,  Piccadilly.  They  were  very  original,  and 
good  lithographs,  and  as  they  were  drawn  by  his  own 
hand  on  the  stone,  they  were  as  nearly  orthographic 
as  could  be.  Unfortunately  the  tinting  was  repro- 
duced by  chromo-lithography,  then  a  rather  primi- 
tive process,  and  not  painted  in  the  old-fashioned 
manner  by  hand,  so  that  the  general  effect  is  coarse 
and  crude. 

It  is  interesting  to  note,  when  he  was  actually 
hunting,  he  scarcely  drew  any  such  scenes  on  his 
own  account,  but  at  this  time  executed  a  great 
number.  In  point  of  fact,  when  living  in  the  country, 
he  had  unconsciously  stored  up  an  enormous  amount 
of  impressions,  which  he  was  now  able  to  use, 
whereas  his  observations  of  ordinary  people  in  social 
life  had  not  been  refreshed,  and  therefore  he  had 


304  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

less  foundation  to  work  on,  and  his  imagination, 
unfed  from  the  outside,  did  not  serve  him  with 
material  which  had  hitherto  been  so  bountifully 
supplied.  His  invention  faded  away  for  want  of 
material,  and  his  drawing  lost  its  character  and  dis- 
tinction. If  he  had  been  an  artist  who  drew  from 
the  model,  the  drawing  could  have  been  refreshed, 
and  the  old  standard  maintained.  As  it  was,  the 
hand  was  allowed  to  work  from  the  feeble  promptings 
of  a  starved  eye.  It  is  interesting  to  observe  that 
though  the  brain  in  one  department  was  seriously 
fatigued,  in  another  it  was  vigorous — for  the  sport- 
ing bits  were  full  of  dash  and  go. 

Apart  from  all  this  he  continued  to  make  designs 
and  paint  pictures,  in  obedience  to  a  personal  im- 
pulse which  had  no  relation  to  his  public  work. 
It  is  very  remarkable  that  though  he  passed  his  life 
in  producing  jocose  pictures,  he  never  composed 
one  except  for  the  direct  purpose  of  sale.  Out  of 
hundreds  of  scraps,  jottings  of  ideas,  and  important 
designs  that  he  made  from  time  to  time,  there  was 
nothing  of  the  sort.  All  were  either  subjects  of  a 
decorative  character  or  didactic. 

The  two  designs  herewith  reproduced,  "  Death's 
Banquet "  and  "  Death's  Revel,"  indicate  an  artistic 
detestation  of  the  futility  of  war.  The  actual  drawings 
were  designs  intended  for   big  pictures,  dedicated 


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PHIZ    THE    ILLUSTRATOR  305 

to  our  American  cousins,  and  exhibited  in  the  Royal 
Academy.  As  mere  compositions  they  have  consider- 
able merit,  and  might  be  executed  in  high  relief  in 
silver,  but  in  the  opinion  of  the  present  writer  they 
would  only  lose  by  being  magnified  beyond  their 
original  size. 

Understanding  of  the  foregoing  is  necessary  for 
the  comprehension  of  how  the  comparatively  tame 
drawings  for  A  Tale  of  Two  Cities  was  succeeded  by 
very  spirited  work  in  other  directions.  There  was 
evidently  no  failure  of  the  whole  mind,  but  merely 
the  fatigue  of  an  overused  portion  of  it. 


U 


CHAPTER    XVII 

FINAL   YEARS 

After  he  returned  to  London  Browne  saw  more  of 
his  fellow-creatures,  and  though  he  could  scarcely 
be  persuaded  to  go  into  society,  yet  he  welcomed 
people  who  came  to  the  house.  One  of  the  most 
frequent  visitors  was  Fred  Barnard,  a  remarkable 
young  man,  who  was  discovered  at  Heatherley's, 
where  he  was  ostensibly  undergoing  the  ordinary 
course  of  art  teaching,  but  was  really  devoting  him- 
self heart  and  soul  to  caricature,  for  which  he  had 
a  genius.  He  could  take  anybody,  friend  or  foe, 
keep  the  likeness,  and  then  exaggerate  the  points 
so  as  to  make  it  ridiculous. 

He  was  also  a  rhymester,  and  he  often  supplemented 
his  cartoons  by  fitting  old  tunes  with  original  verses 
which  helped  to  point  his  moral.  He  was  an  adept 
in  dressing  up,  and  would  present  himself  at  one 
time  as  a  mediaeval  Italian  and  at  another  as  a  Lon- 
don costermonger  or  "  bookie.*'  He  was  an  excellent 
amateur  actor,  and  took  part  in  the  performances 
which  were  frequent  at  Heatherley's.     But  his  most 

remarkable  quality,  which  he  retained  throughout  his 

306 


HABLOT   BROWNE. 
From  an  amaleur  photograph. 


FINAL   YEARS  307 

life,  was  his  capacity  on  any  social  occasion  of  giving 
an  entertainment  all  by  himself.  Apparently  join- 
ing naturally  in  the  conversation,  he  would  begin  to 
relate  anecdotes,  recite,  give  imitations  from  actors 
and  people  whom  he  had  met,  and  all  so  delightfully 
that  he  held  the  audience  as  long  as  he  pleased. 
Mr.  Toole  was  the  only  other  man  whom  I  have  met 
who  could  take  upon  himself  the  burden  of  enter- 
taining a  whole  company. 

Barnard  came  to  Notting  Hill  as  an  admirer, 
and  he  was  a  never-failing  source  of  amusement 
to  Browne.  Indeed,  between  the  two  men  there 
existed  from  the  first  a  temperamental  bond  of  sym- 
pathy which  strengthened  with  time  and  endured  to 
the  end.  Barnard  entered  into  all  sorts  of  schemes, 
and  egged  Browne  on,  who  always  had  an  enormous 
number  of  irons  in  the  fire  wherewith  to  burn  his 
fingers. 

A  favourite  occupation  at  this  time  was  to  design 
big  pictures,  and  Barnard  was  always  eager  to  pro- 
duce costumes,  assume  attitudes,  or  give  any  neces- 
sary assistance,  anything,  in  fact,  so  long  as  he  could 
take  a  part.  One  subject  in  particular  for  a  time 
progressed  favourably.  "  The  Drunken  Helot  " 
was  intended  to  be  a  large  picture  of  a  Spartan 
crowd,  chiefly  women  and  children  assembled  near 
a   drinking  fountain   and  watching  an  unfortunate 


3o8  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

slave  slouching  along  a  wall,  pointing  out  to  their 
children  the  disgusting  condition  of  the  poor  wretch, 
who  had  been  expressly  intoxicated  for  an  object- 
lesson.  Barnard  solemnly  covenanted  to  pose  as 
the  model,  and  I  remember  him  one  night  demon- 
strating his  qualifications  by  an  extemporaneous  re- 
hearsal of  great  length.  He  lurched  about  against 
the  wall,  giving  correct  imitations  of  various  kinds 
of  people  in  the  different  stages  of  drunkenness, 
many  excessively  funny,  others  merely  helpless 
and  loathsome,  but  none  of  them  classical. 

The  design  was  never  carried  out,  but  it  was  very 
good,  and  would  have  pointed  its  moral,  but  as  it 
would  have  required,  even  with  Browne's  rough-and- 
ready  method  of  oil  painting,  some  weeks  to  com- 
plete, the  leisure  time  never  came,  and  it  dropped 
through. 

Moreover  Barnard  was  not  available,  as  about 
this  time  he  went  to  Paris  with  one  of  my  brothers 
to  study  painting  in  Bonnat's  studio.  The  effect 
of  this  instruction  on  Barnard  was  curious.  Bonnat 
was  an  uncompromising  realist,  as  those  who  have 
seen  his  picture  of  "  Job  "  in  the  Luxembourg  will 
remember.  Like  many  others  of  the  French  school 
of  the  period,  he  absolutely  forbade  drawing  from 
chic,  and  insisted  on  a  rigid  adherence  to  the  model. 
He   left   the   mark   of  his   method   on   his   pupils. 


FINAL   YEARS  309 

Barnard  did  not  stay  sufficiently  long  to  acquire  a 
thoroughly  good  style  of  painting,  but  he  did  learn 
to  mistrust  his  own  conceptions  and  to  lean  on  the 
model,  and  afterwards  he  never  attempted  to  work 
without  it. 

If  he  had  intended  to  paint  subject  pictures  in 
the  ordinary  manner  all  would  have  been  well, 
but  he  never  relinquished  his  idea  of  becoming  a 
humorous  draughtsman,  and  occupying  himself  with 
the  observation  of  people  around  him,  and  allow- 
ing his  fancy  free  play.  He  hoped  to  take  a  front 
place  as  humorous  illustrator,  and  produce  works 
containing  at  the  same  time  character  and  draughts- 
manship. He  actually  did  a  great  deal  of  work 
of  the  kind,  but  the  result  of  his  teaching  was  to 
hamper  him.  He  was  fond  of  subjects  involving  a 
good  deal  of  action,  such  as  a  Christmas  party  in- 
terrupted by  the  appearance  of  a  supposed  ghost. 
He  imagined  people  dispersing  in  great  excitement, 
fat  gentlemen  hiding  beneath  chairs,  underneath 
tables,  behind  sofas,  curtains,  in  all  sorts  of  undigni- 
fied and  mirth-provoking  attitudes.  He  would  con- 
ceive all  these  things  in  his  mind,  but  he  would  not 
draw  from  his  own  imagination,  and  he  insisted  upon 
posing  his  models  according  to  his  conception, 
so  that  there  was  always  some  evaporation  of  the 
original  idea,  and  a  certain  amount  of  stiffness  due 


3IO  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

to  faithful  rendering  of  the  model.  It  is  obvious 
that  no  model,  however  clever,  can  be  posed  in  an 
attitude  as  vivacious  as  a  person  would  naturally 
assume  in  real  life,  and  his  drawings  therefore  lost 
a  great  deal  of  the  spontaneity  and  originality  that 
his  early  works  possessed. 

From  time  to  time  he  painted  pictures  from  real 
life,  such  as  the  "  Guards  marching  to  St.  James' 
Palace,"  "  Clare  Market  by  Night,"  but  they  were 
more  interesting  as  subjects  than  paintings.  Two 
of  his  most  successful  pictures,  according  to  my 
recollection,  were,  a  very  funny  one  of  Sir  Walter 
Raleigh,  beautifully  dressed  in  white  satin,  smoking 
his  first  pipe,  utterly  bewildered  when  the  early 
effects  of  the  weed  began  to  be  felt ;  the  other, 
serious  and  impressive,  of  Sidney  Carton  mounting 
the  scaffold  in  the  grey  mist  of  the  dawn.  So  far 
as  my  memory  serves  me,  this  was  a  picture  which 
would  stand  on  its  own  merits,  besides  being  an 
excellent  presentment  of  the  subject. 

He  was  very  interesting  and  amusing  in  his 
domestic  arrangements.  During  the  daytime  he 
was  a  great  deal  away  from  home,  observing  queer 
people,  making  strange  acquaintances.  He  asked 
me  once  if  I  was  interested  in  bus  drivers,  and  told 
me  he  had  driven  for  hours  on  the  box  seat  of  a 
certain   bus   in   order  to   become   acquainted  with 


FINAL   YEARS  311 

the  driver's  manner  of  thought  and  speech.  He 
was  much  dreaded  as  an  employer  by  models, 
partly  because  he  put  them  into  attitudes  difficult 
to  maintain,  and  partly  because  he  had  an  inveterate 
habit  of  working  at  night.  He  thought  nothing  of 
beginning  at  eleven  or  twelve,  and  continuing  till 
morning.  Like  many  artists  of  the  time,  when  he 
began  to  be  successful  he  built  a  house  for  himself, 
which  involved  him  in  many  troubles,  as  houses 
frequently  do.  His  troubles  began  early.  He  wrote 
to  me  in  his  own  peculiar  fashion,  saying  that  his 
children  had  got  the  snuffles.  This  was  eventually 
found  to  be  diphtheria — a  great  trial,  though  for- 
tunately he  escaped  bereavement.  He  had  the  house 
examined,  and  immediately  under  the  dining-room 
a  drain  was  discovered,  of  which  the  joints  had  not 
even  been  cemented.  The  wonder  was  that  nothing 
worse  had  occurred. 

He  brought  an  action  against  the  builder,  who 
promptly  went  bankrupt.  He  lived  there  for 
some  time,  and  as  his  income  of  course  varied, 
though  the  expenses  did  not,  the  balance  was 
not  always  on  the  right  side.  This  is  very 
common  among  artists.  But  he  prepared  for 
emergencies,  and  had  a  big  board  painted 
"  House  to  Let,"  &c.,  which  in  prosperous  times 
was  kept  behind  the  front  door,  but  when  money 


312  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

was    tight  was   conspicuously  displayed  to  attract 
the  public. 

He  was  always  open  to  take  advantage  of  an  oppor- 
tunity for  a  little  fun.  One  of  his  immediate  neigh- 
bours, a  distinguished  painter  of  a  good  social 
position,  was  giving  a  special  "  at  home  "  to  view 
his  pictures.  Barnard,  hearing  of  this,  said  he  did 
not  see  why  Teddy  should  have  all  the  fun,  and 
he  betook  himself  to  Nathan,  who  would  provide  a 
costume  from  that  of  the  fallen  Adam  to  the  latest 
Parisian  freak,  and  Clarkson,  who  had  wigs  of  all 
kinds  to  suit  every  head,  and  on  the  afternoon  of  the 
party,  as  the  first  carriages  drew  up,  Barnard  had 
disappeared,  and  there  was  seen  at  his  gate  a  gorgeous 
flunkey  clothed  in  a  blue  coat  with  gold  braid, 
canary  coloured  smalls,  silk  stockings,  shoes  with 
buckles,  cocked  hat  and  powdered  hair,  and  fur- 
nished with  a  gold-headed  staif.  The  coachmen 
perceiving  this  splendid  vision  naturally  pulled  up 
at  Barnard's  house.  The  gorgeous  flunkey  made 
himself  very  busy  opening  the  gate,  knocking  at 
the  door,  and  escorting  dowagers,  to  the  great 
astonishment  of  the  little  maid,  who  was  not  pre- 
pared for  any  one  grander  than  the  milkman.  The 
more  carriages  there  came,  the  more  it  seemed  certain 
that  Barnard's  was  the  house  of  the  reception,  and 
the   more   stopped,    and   the   more   footmen   there 


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FINAL   YEARS  313 

were  bustling  about  helping  ladies  out  of  carriages 
and  putting  them  back.  Of  course  the  inevitable 
crowd  made  the  little  lane  at  the  gate  to  view  the 
costumes,  and  everybody  was  very  much  bewildered 
except  the  flunkey  in  the  canary  coloured  smalls, 
who  had  half  an  hour's  intense  enjoyment  and  then 
disappeared. 

To  return  to  Browne. 

Somewhere  in  the  late  'sixties  he  had  a  severe 
illness,  in  which  he  lost  the  use  of  his  right  thumb, 
and  part  use  of  his  right  leg.  In  his  usual  optimistic 
fashion  he  considered  his  feebleness  as  rheumatism, 
and  though  he  could  not  close  his  thumb  over  his 
pencil,  he  continued  to  draw,  holding  his  pencil 
between  his  fingers  alone.  He  also  adopted  a  new 
material,  housemaid's  blacklead,  with  which  he 
made  many  designs ;  the  solid  he  used  for  his  out- 
lines, and  he  rubbed  the  powder  on  with  his  finger 
as  shade.  The  two  drawings  "  Deluge  "  and  ''  The 
Schoolmaster  "  belong  to  this  late  period. 

At  the  beginning  of  his  convalescence  he  endeav- 
oured to  fulfil  a  commission  to  furnish  illustrations 
on  wood  for  a  cheap  edition  of  Dickens'  works, 
and  though  he  produced  a  number  for  Pickwick^ 
he  was  quite  unable  to  continue  his  task,  and  the 
work  passed  into  the  hands  of  other  artists,  of 
whom  his  friend  Barnard  was  the  chief. 


314  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

Browne  lived  for  fifteen  years  after  this  illness, 
and,  with  the  exception  of  the  partial  paralysis,  he 
enjoyed  very  good  health  till  within  a  short  time 
of  his  death  in  1882.  During  most  of  the  time 
he  lived  at  Brighton,  and  though  he  did  no  public 
work  worth  mentioning,  he  continued  to  draw  and 
paint  to  the  end. 

His  career  as  a  whole  undoubtedly  disappointed 
the  expectations  of  his  friends,  who  without  exception 
looked  for  great  things,  and  many  competent  judges 
up  to  a  late  period  believed  that  he  only  needed 
to  exert  himself  to  achieve  something  remarkable. 
Neither  he  nor  they  thought  he  had  attained  his 
ideal.  So  many  evidences  were  continually  given 
of  reserve  power  that  hope  died  out  but  slowly, 
and  by  some  was  cherished  till  his  illness  put  an 
end  to  any  reasonable  expectation,  and  his  career 
was  definitely  closed. 

His  early  great  success  was  in  itself  regarded  as 
an  indication  of  power — which  it  was — and  though 
he  had  turned  away  from  the  romantic  art  in  which 
he  had  originally  shown  promise,  it  was  supposed 
that  after  a  time  he  would  resume  his  original  pur- 
pose, and  put  the  illustrating  on  one  side.  Some 
confirmation  of  this  view  was  afforded  by  the  fact 
already  referred  to,  that  though  he  was  professionally 
engaged  in  works  adapted  for  the  public  taste,  he 


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FINAL   YEARS  315 

was  continually,  in  private,  pushing  forward  to- 
wards achievements  in  romance  and  beauty.  He 
lived  artistically  a  double  life,  like  Dr.  Jekyll  and 
Mr.  Hyde  ;  Mr.  Hyde  being  kept  for  the  public, 
and  Dr.  Jekyll  scarcely  suspected  by  the  outside 
world.  Those  who  knew  Dr.  Jekyll  were  rather 
surprised  at  Mr.  Hyde's  long-continued  vitality, 
and  did  not  take  him  very  seriously,  though  he  un- 
doubtedly exercised  a  sinister  influence  in  continu- 
ally following  an  occupation  that  appeared  to  be 
analogous  to  painting,  but  was  really  antagonistic, 
as  by  continually  practising  upon  steel  he  lowered 
his  power  of  painting. 

One  of  the  qualities  most  clearly  to  be  seen  in 
him,  and  which  was  not  stifled  by  his  periodical 
work,  was  his  sense  of  linear  composition  and  beauty 
of  form,  his  power  of  transforming  common  objects 
into  things  of  grace,  and  his  noble  disdain  of  the 
ugliness  with  which  we  live  surrounded.  Neither 
he  nor  his  friends  realised  that  recovery  from  the 
incessant  strain  of  periodical  work  was  only  possible 
with  some  interval  for  rest  and  contemplation. 
By  dint  of  long  persistence  in  a  wrong  direction 
he  had  lost  the  power  of  choosing  the  right 
road,  and  having  passed  his  time  in  drawing 
too  much,  he  became  quite  unhappy  if  he  was 
not   still    further    exhausting    his  energies   by  con- 


3i6  PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 

tinually  having  his  pencil  or  etching  needle  in 
his  hand. 

Abundant  evidence  exists  that  although  the  illus- 
trations were  supposed  by  his  admirers  to  be  below 
the  level  of  his  power,  they  were  highly  esteemed 
by  the  public  at  large. 

When  recovering  from  his  illness,  he  went  to 
consult  a  physician  of  celebrity  personally  unknown 
to  him.  At  the  end  of  the  consultation  he  offered 
the  usual  fee,  but  the  good  doctor  refused  it,  saying, 
"  I  have  for  many  years  derived  so  much  amusement 
and  enjoyment  from  your  works,  that  I  am  glad  to 
have  the  opportunity  of  making  you  a  small  return." 

Others  of  a  later  generation  have  appreciated  the 
qualities  of  his  work  ;  to  cite  one  instance  : — 

During  some  years  while  I  was  President  of  the 
Liverpool  Art  Club  I  had  the  good  fortune  to  be 
closely  associated  with  R.  A.  M.  Stevenson,  who 
was  at  the  time  Professor  of  Art  at  the  University 
College,  Liverpool.  He  was  a  remarkable  man,  and 
a  very  able  and  illuminating  critic,  full  of  admiration 
for  the  modern  French  school,  and  having  a  lively 
contempt  for  anecdotal  art.  He  had  little  to  say  in 
favour  of  the  Italian  or  other  old  masters  (though 
he  appreciated  their  technique),  till  after  a  visit 
to  Madrid  he  took  Velasquez  to  his  bosom,  saying, 
"  He  was  as  good  as  a  modern  French  realist."     Such 


FINAL   YEARS  317 

a  man  did  not  seem  likely  to  appreciate  early  Victorian 
art.  But  one  night  when  we  were  alone  something 
prompted  me  to  show  him  the  illustrations,  which 
he  had  never  seen.  I  expected  something  curious, 
but  not  what  happened.  To  my  surprise  he  was 
greatly  interested,  looked  at  them  for  a  long  time 
attentively,  sometimes  turning  back  to  refresh 
his  memory,  occasionally  asking  a  question.  At 
last  he  placed  his  hand  palm  downward  on  one  of 
them,  and  said,  with  the  air  of  a  man  pronouncing 
a  final  judgment,  "  This  is  a  lost  art." 


INDEX 


Agnes  Wickfield,  280 

Alboni,  156-7 

Alice,  274 

All  the  Year  Round,  121,  221 

Art  Journal,  90 

Ascent  of  Mont  Blanc,  138-9 

Astley's,  124,  199 

Bagnet,  287 

Baptist,  John,  294 

Bardell,  Mrs.,  9,  250 

Barkis,  230,  278 

Barnaby  Rudge,  255,  258,  259,  263 

Barnard,  307,  308,  312 

Battle  of  Life,  77 

Bedford,  Paul,  225 

Bedford  Place,  50 

Bellew,  J.  C.  M.,  119,  141 

Berry,  Mrs.,  59 

Betsy  Prigg,  270,  271 

Bicknell,  Clarence,  62 

—  Elhanan.  3,  53,  55,  57,  63-4,  68 

—  Herman,  60 

—  Sidney,  61 
Billington,  225 
Black-Eyed  Susan,  123 
Blandois,  294-7 

Bleak  House,  94,  96,  163,  221,  284-94 

Blimbcr,  Dr.,  86 

Bottle,  The,  23 

Boythorn,  287 

Brass,  Sally,  257 

Bray,  Madeline,  192,  253 

Browdie,  John,  12,  250 

Brown,  Jones  and  Robinson  {Tour  on 

Continent),  25 
Browne,  Hablot   K.;  i;  86,    168,    171, 

189,   234,   247,   251,   255,   265,  290, 

292,  298,  306  et  passim 
Bruce  Castle,  no,  113 
Bucket,  100 
Bulwer,  194 
Bunsby,  272 
Buss,  Mr.,  7 

Calcott,  63 
Callow,  Mr.,  43 


318 


Carker,  23,  275 

Carton,  Sidney,  212-18,  310 

Cattermole,  255,  260 

Chadband,  Mr.,  287-9,  3^3 

Chapman  &  Hall,  10,  150 

Charles  O'Malley,  188 

Cheerybles,  13,  192,  250 

Cheese,  52 

Chesney  Wold,  96,  286-96 

Chick,  Mrs.,  274 

Chigwell,  258 

Chimes,  21,  76 

Christmas  Books,  21,  25 

Chuzzlewit,   92,   208,  224,   260-3,   273, 

289,  296,  302 
Clemency,  80 
Clennam,  Arthur,  295 

—  Mrs.,  295 
Clitheroe,  Mervyn,  199 
Cluppins,  Mrs.,  250 
Coavinses,  289 
Codlin,  257 

Coffinmaker's  Carouse,  200 
Cooke,  T.  P.,  123-4 
Copperfield,  Mrs.,  32 
Count  D'Orsay,  59,  197 
Creakle,  279-82 
Crichton,  200 

Croydon,  26,  29,  32,  43,  53,  108,  129, 

142,  167,  281 
Cruikshank,  22-3,  75,  199,  203 
Crummies  Family,  115,  250 
Cruncher,  Jerry,  219,  220,  232 
Cuttle,  Capt.,  88,  207,  274,  296 

David  Copperfield,  104,  276,  221 
Dead  Heart,  221-6 
Death's  Banquet,  298,  304 

—  Revel,  298,  304 
Dedlock,  Lady,  285-8 

—  Sir  Leicester,  285-95 

Dickens,  5,  7,  10-13,  So,   74-105,    121, 
143-6,  "181,   191,   199,  205-33,  248- 

305 
Domhey,  238,  285-8 
Doughty  Street,  6 
Doyle,  24,  76 


INDEX 


319 


Emily,  277,  280 
EvTemonde,  212-15 

Fechter,  Mr.,  119-22 

Fennell,  J.  G.,  Mr.,  10,  11 

Finden's,  3-5,  10,  44 

Forster,   jj,   82,  84,  95,  97,   103,    105, 

237 
Frith,  W.  P.,  Mr.,  17 
Fumival's  Inn,  5,  44 

Gad's  Hill,  53-4 

Gamp,  Mrs.,  145,  207-8,  224,  232,  261, 

269, 271-2,  289 
Gilpin,  John,  4,  7,  10 
Gills,  Sol,  274 
Gordon,  George,  Lord,  258 
Graham,  Mary,  208,  265 
Grant,  13,  192 

—  Mr.  James,  299 
Great  Winglebury  Duel,  150 
Gride,  Arthur,  253 
Gummidge,  Mrs.,  277 
Guppy,  286 

Hall,  Anna  Maria,  90 

—  Samuel  Carter,  90-4 
Ham,  277,  280 

Harris,  Mrs.,  224,  270 
Harrison  Ainsworth,  181,  191,  204 
Harvey,  Martin,  225 
Hawdon,  Capt.,  285,  288 
Hawke,  Sir  Mulberry,  250 
Heap,  Uriah,  280 
Heatherley's,  19 
Heme  Hill,  55,  58,  62 
Hill,  Arthur,  iii 

—  Birkbeck,  Dr.,  229 

—  Gray,  Sir  John,  11 2-1 3 

—  Rowland,  iii,  127 
Hood,  Tom,  91 
Hortense,  286 

Hullah,  John,  Mr.,  147-50 
Humphrey,  Master,  254 
Hunt,  Holman,  149 

—  Leigh,  94,  96,  99-103 

Illustrated  London  News,  108,  165 

Jack  Hinton,  171,  174,  177,  188 

Jarley,  Mrs.,  135,  210,  257 

Jeddler,  Dr.,  and   Marion  and  Grace, 

78-82 
Jellaby  Family,  96,  287 

Kean,  Charles,  109-10,  1 18-19 
Kemble,  Fanny,  Mi.ss,  141 
Kenwigs  Family,  252 


Knag,  Miss,  250 

Knight  of  Gwvnne,  20,  186,  189 

Kropk.  287.  288 

Langham  Sketching  Club,  18 

Lecky,  Hartpole,  Mr.,  183 

Leech,  John,  16,  19-22,  76-7,  82,  128 

Lever,  Charles,  15,  168-90 

Lewis,  George  Henry,  241 

Little  Dorr  it,  294-5 

Little  Nell,  87,  209-10,  257,  264 

Lorrequer,  Harry.      Vide  Lever 

Lover,  Samuel,  172-3,  179 

Maclise,  Daniel,  17,  82 

—  Joseph,  17,  82 
Macready,  107,  121-2 
Manette,  Dr.  and  Lucie,  212-20 
Mantalini,  Mr.,  250,  253 

Mell,  Mr.,  282 

Mowcher,  Miss,  48,  104-5,  284 

Moxon,  John,  47-9 

—  Mr.,  47 
Murdstone,  277,  280,  282 

Nicholas   Nickleby,    11,    13,    191,    245, 
250,  252 

O'Donoghue,  190 

Old  Curiosity  Shop,  87,  255,  256,  263 

Old  St.  Paul's,  198,  200 

Oliver  Twist,  22,  24,  75,  194 

Only  Way,  225 

"  Passage  of  the  Plague  Cart,"  200 
Pecksniff,    90-4,    104,    209,    231,    261, 

266-9,  289-96 
Peggotty,  Mr.  and  Clara,  32,  277,,  284 
Phelps,  1 1 3-1 5,  132 
Pickwick,  4,  6,  8,   II,  20,   145,   168-9, 

191,  206,  228-9,  244,  247,  250,  254-5 
Piccolomini,  151 
Pipchin,  Mrs.,  82-7,  273 
Punch, 18,  20,  21,  25,  45,  52,165,168,  269 

Ride  to  York,  196 
Robson,  1 17-18,  122 
Rose  MayUe,  75 
Ruskin,  John,  63,  65,  68-70 

Sadler's  Wells,  113,  116,  122 
Seymour,  69,  244 
Sheppard,  Jack,  191-5 
Sikes,  Bill,  145 
Sketches  by  Boz,  22 
Skimpole,  94-8,  100-4,  286 
Smike,  250,  264 
Steerforth,  278-80 


320 


PHIZ   AND    DICKENS 


Tale  of  Two  Cities,  212-26,  297.  305 
Terry,  Ellen,  Miss,  225 
—  Kate,  Miss,  120-1 
Thackeray,  6,  17-19,  24,  95,   169,  181, 

193 
Toole,  Mr.,  iii,  225,  307 
Toughey  (Jo),  100,  285-6 
Tower  of  London.  198 
Trotwood,  Betsy,  279,  284 

Van  Eyck,  40 

Vanity  Fair,  25,  50,  168 


Villiers,    Hon.    and     Rev.    Montague, 
SO-i 

Wedmore,  Frederick,  Sir,  23,  86 

Wegg,  Silas,  140 

Westall,  Dr.,  41-3 

Whistler,  69-72 

White,  Rev.  Henry,  34 

Windsor  Castle,  198 

Winkle's  Cathedrals,  4,  5,  7 

Young,  Robert,  5,  44,  102,  167 


THE    END 


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